


Under a Full Yellow Moon (Whumptober 2020)

by fishfingersandjellybabies



Category: Batman (Comics), Super Sons (Comics), Superman (Comics)
Genre: Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Whumptober 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:42:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 31
Words: 26,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26763016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fishfingersandjellybabies/pseuds/fishfingersandjellybabies
Summary: 31 stories of hurt, and maybe some comfort sometimes, for the Whumptober 2020 event.
Comments: 217
Kudos: 531





	1. Shackled - Dick and Ra's

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Whumptober! This one focuses on Dick, and the time period is pre-Damian/Bruce’s death. Prompts are taken from [this list](https://whumptober2020.tumblr.com/post/628055505485561856/whumptober-2020-updated). Reminder, sign up for my patreon on any tier if you wish to help pick the prompts or characters! Details on my tumblr (same user name as here). And these will be shorter-ish stories, since I’m literally writing to post every day for 31 days. It’s gonna be a lot okay. I’m already tired haha.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick wakes up in a cave.

The pain woke him up. The pounding of his head, the heaviness of his ankle, the rock digging into his spine.

Wait…why was a rock digging into his spine?

He definitely did not recall being in a rocky area. At least, not last he remembered. Not that that helped much, since he last remembered sitting in his apartment, waiting for a pizza delivery.

He slowly opened his eyes, but it didn’t help anything. The place was dark.

 _Dark and cold_ , and his mind instantly registered that he knew those conditions. Dark, cold and rocky. A cave.

He frowned though, because this was definitely not the cave he was most familiar with. Definitely not Bruce’s, which meant he definitely wasn’t safe, because he definitely didn’t hang out in dark, cold caves for _fun_.

He moved, felt the rock that was sticking into his back recede, and slowly sat up. Blinked a few times to adjust to the darkness, then shifted to get his feet under him to stand.

But then he froze.

Because there was a weight on his left leg. A heavy weight, one he couldn’t move real well with. He could see a shape in the darkness, attached to his ankle, so he reached down to touch it.

It was metal and thick, but that wasn’t much of a problem. He’d been restrained before. Many times, in fact. With any and all materials you could think of. Rope, chains, wire, sex toys.

The problem was, as he shifted his hand, he found the thick clasp on his ankle was attached to something. He slowly ran his hand along what appeared to be chains, even thicker than the shackle on his leg, and found them attached to the stone wall.

…He was chained to a wall. In the bottom of a cave.

Well, this wasn’t good.

Even though his head was still throbbing, he gave the chain a few tugs, testing its strength. It seemed solid, would take more than a couple strong pulls to get it loose enough to yank out. And even then, this chain was huge. Even if he freed himself, it’d be a slow journey out of here, whichever direction that was. He’d be moving like a regular Jacob Marley.

Suddenly there was a scratchy swoosh, the sound of a match being lit. He winced against the dim light that appeared across the space, and watched the flame grow as the match was held to a torch.

A man covered in dark brown from head to toe stood there, only his eyes showing. But that didn’t matter, Dick recognized a member from the League of Assassins anywhere.

He didn’t get a chance to strike up a conversation, though, as suddenly there were footsteps echoing off the walls. Within minutes a shadow appeared behind the assassin, and the light revealed one Ra’s al Ghul.

“Mr. Grayson.” Ra’s hummed with a smile. “Glad to see you awake.”

“Ra’s? What’s going on?” Dick shook the chain. “What’s with this?”

“Consider it an honor.” Ra’s chuckled. “It was the only way we could defeat you, welding that to your leg.”

Dick glanced back down. In the torchlight he could now make out a thick dark line down the side of the cuff, and no other seam.

“Wha…?” Dick tilted his head, the pain in his skull screamed. “Ra’s, are we having a tiff that I was unaware of?”

“No, it’s not a current fight. I’m merely taking preventative measures against a future one.” Ra’s shrugged. “After all, we’ve run the scenarios.”

“Scenarios?” Dick asked. “Of what?”

“For when we go and retrieve Timothy Drake.” Ra’s explained simply. “Our studies show that you would be the only one to successfully complete a rescue attempt.”

Dick’s stomach dropped, but anger sparked in his heart. “Don’t you fucking touch that kid, Ra’s.”

“He’s the only viable option for a new vessel, Richard. You know that.” Ra’s scolded. “I _need_ him.”

“You can’t have him.” Dick hissed. “And what the hell do you mean I’d be the only one to try a rescue attempt? Bruce would – _will_ – be here in a heartbeat.”

“I did not say that, Richard. Listen when you’re being spoken to. I said you’d be the only one to _succeed_.” Ra’s sighed, like a parent to a child. “Bruce will come, but he wouldn’t do what needs to be done. He wouldn’t _kill_ for the boy. But you, on the other hand…”

Ra’s smiled. Dick balled his hand into a fist.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of. It just makes you a more formidable opponent.” Ra’s promised. “But also not one I have time for. Our timeline is short, and your distraction is not something we can afford.” He paused, thought for a minute. “You’re the only one who could save him, and I, unfortunately, can’t let you do that.”

Dick tugged on the chain again. “Ra’s, don’t. I…I swear to god.”

“You will be fed down here. A meal a day.” Ra’s pursed his lips. “On days we have enough food for you anyway.”

“Ra’s.”

“You will not have visitors. Or a guard. So, if you were to somehow escape _and_ find your way out of this cave, it seems understandable that you’ve earned your freedom, and may go where you wish.”

“Ra’s.” Dick begged. “Please.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Grayson. I don’t have another option.” Ra’s seemed truly sad by the statement. “I do not want to kill you. But I cannot allow you to get in my way.”

“No, I…I don’t care about me. Leave me here, that’s fine.” Dick pulled at the chain again. Nothing. “Just… _please_. Please don’t hurt Tim. Please don’t make him do this.”

“If I had another choice I would take it.” Ra’s said, like he meant it. “He is my best option.”

“He’s a _kid_.”

“And better than any man.” Ra’s countered. “Really, Richard. You should both take your captures as honors. Your capture is due to your formidability. His will be due to his genius and skill.”

_“Ra’s!”_

“My apologies. We are heading to Gotham in hours.” Ra’s said. “Good luck from here on out. Despite what it seems, I do wish you well. And I will give Timothy your regards.”

Ra’s turned away then, his assassin on his heels. Dick shouted after him, his voice becoming more frantic with every repetition. Ra’s never looked back and never answered.

Dick screamed until the light of the torch disappeared. He never heard a door open, or the sound of the outside world. He didn’t hear any more movement, of neither assassin nor animal. He pulled at the chain a few more times, but eventually wore his own strength out.

Dick was left alone in the dark.


	2. Kidnapped - Jon and Damian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damian and Jon were kidnapped by the one you’d least expect

Lois rarely calls Bruce.

And it’s even more rare for her to call Bruce sobbing.

“He took them.” She gasped, screamed, wailed. “He…I…I don’t know what happened. He was on a case. The boys were helping me clean the house and…and the barnyard. He-He came back, he didn’t say a word-”

“Lois, slow down.” Bruce tried, already clicking through the Batcomputer to get to the satellite images of the Kent farm. Damian had just been there for the weekend. The boys having a sleepover. “He who?”

Just to confirm. Just to be sure. He knew who she was talking about but he just had to be _sure_.

“ _Clark_.” She cried, and Bruce’s heart sank. “He pulled Jon up by his hair. Dragged Damian by his neck. I-I tried to stop him, tried to make him put them down. He just threw me across the yard.”

“Okay.” Bruce breathed. “Okay, I’m on my way. Which direction did he go, did you see?”

“North. I think.” Lois offered. “Bruce, you have to pick me up. I have to come with you.”

“Lois, it’s not _safe_ -”

 _“My son isn’t safe.”_ She spat, even through her tears. “And I’m not leaving Damian. He was in my care, it’s my fault he was taken. I’m going to help get him back or I…I…”

She collapsed back into tears.

“…Fine.” Bruce sighed. “Just…just know, Lois. This obviously isn’t Clark, something happened. But to save the boys…to get _our boys_ back…I may have to use Kryptonite.”

“…I know.”

“I just want you to understand.”

“I know.” Lois repeated. “I know you won’t like it either. But I know you’ll do anything to get Jon and Damian to safety. Even that.”

“Good.” Bruce huffed nervously. He grabbed for a bag of weapons, pulled his cowl over his face. “And Lois?”

“What?”

“I don’t blame you.” Bruce whispered. “I know this isn’t your fault.”

Lois didn’t answer the statement. Instead just sniffed and said, “I’ll be waiting by the mailbox.”

As the Batmobile sped through the streets, Bruce continued to work on the computer. He’d found the tracker in Damian’s cell phone, cross-referenced it with a tracker Bruce had put in his shoe.

 _Metropolis_.

The car barely slowed on the old dusty road before Lois was opening the car door and dropping in. Bruce relayed any information he had to her as they drove towards the city. Lois manned the computer then, checking security cameras on various buildings that might have meant something to Clark.

“There.” She whispered eventually, tapping her finger on the screen. “Bruce, there!”

They were on top of the Daily Planet. It was a camera from another building nearby, so they couldn’t see details. But they could see enough.

The boys were huddled together against the rooftop door, and there were jagged lines of scorch marks around them, clear indicators that every attempt at movement was thwarted by heat vision. Superman was under the golden globe that labeled the building, using that very same heat vision to slice the statue’s mount.

“Is he…” Lois tilted her head. “Is he going to drop it on them? Crush them to death?”

“Let’s hope we don’t have to find out.” Bruce responded tightly. As they made it to the city, to the street where the Planet was, they could see a crowd gathering on the street below, watching with curiosity what they could see of the situation above them. “We need to sneak up the side. He needs to not know I’m there.”

“Why?”

“Because we don’t know what he’s doing, or what influence he’s under.” Bruce murmured, trying to find another camera angle himself. “So right now, to get the boys out of danger, our only move is to incapacitate him.”

Lois glanced over. “The Kryptonite.”

Bruce nodded solemnly. “If I can sneak up behind him, it’ll limit any damage to Jon. Give me the element of surprise.”

Lois swallowed the lump in her throat and looked back down to the security feed. She watched as Jon rubbed at his eyes, as Damian tried to say something to him, as Clark turned and shot heat vision in their direction.

“Okay.” Lois whispered. “Put me near the boys, I’ll try to distract him, or…or get between him and the kids, at least.”

Bruce nodded. They waited in silence as the Batmobile slowed and ducked into an alleyway. “…You know I don’t want to do this.”

“Of course I do.” Lois tried to give him a smile, but it came out pained. “But anything for the boys. I know that. Clark knows that.”

Bruce nodded, looked at the camera feed himself.

“Anything for our babies.” Lois repeated softly. Suddenly she kicked open her door. “Let’s go.”

Bruce slowly exited the car himself, and watched as Lois began to climb the fire escape of the near-skyscraper. She made it up two or three layers before glancing back down at him.

“Well, get going, Bats.”

Bruce couldn’t help but smirk at her courage, but ducked around the corner of the building at her command anyway, pulling his grapple gun out of his belt.

Lois was out of breath by the time she reached the top, but she didn’t care. She only cared about her son and his best friend. She glanced over the ledge, searching the roof, gaining her bearings.

She was thankfully closest to the door the boys were crowded against, but it made her heart immediately sink. Both boys had injuries on them. Blood seeping from cuts, bruises. A black eye on Damian and a bruise blossoming on Jon’s jaw. Jon was also cradling a limp arm between the two of them, and Damian’s jeans were ripped enough to reveal a swollen ankle.

Clark had hurt them. Jesus Christ, Clark had _hurt them._

Clark, meanwhile, was still working on the base of the newspaper’s monument, humming cheerfully as he moved.

Her heart pounded, but she knew. She needed to remind herself.

Right now, that wasn’t her husband.

And Jon’s silent tears made that easier to believe. His pain fueled her fury. Husbands didn’t exist when her baby was scared.

So she crawled over the ledge, and silently walked to stand in front of the children. Damian noticed her first, and she quickly held her finger to her lips, asking for quiet. He attempted to situate himself more in front of Jon, and nodded.

Once Damian and Jon were behind her, she cleared her throat. “Clark.”

Clark stood upright and turned around, frowning at the sight of her. “Oh. _You_.”

His eyes were dark, almost black, the shadow of red lining his irises. His face was tight, like he was straining, even though everything else about him screamed relaxed.

It was him, but it so _wasn’t_.

“Give me my kids back.” Lois demanded.

“No thank you.” Clark grinned. “I need them.”

“For what?”

“To destroy them.” Clark shrugged pleasantly. Jon whimpered behind her. Damian shushed him. “They are a waste of life.”

“Says who?” Lois snapped. In the corner of her eye she saw a shadow move behind the globe. She kept her focus on Clark anyway.

“Says _me_.” Clark pushed back. “My eyes have been opened. It’s the only conclusion. The legacy of the World’s Finest deserve better than…” He frowned, waved his hand mindlessly towards the boys. “ _Them_.”

“Even if that were true, and it’s _not_.” Lois spat. “That doesn’t mean they deserve to die.”

“It absolutely does.” Clark grinned. “After all, you dispose of _trash_ , don’t you?”

“You’re the only _garbage_ I see.” Damian shouted angrily. Clark’s eyes instantly became red, and Lois quickly backed up a step.

“Don’t.” She warned. “Don’t you dare touch them.”

“Move or be destroyed with them.” Clark decided.

“Then kill me.” Lois countered. “But I won’t let you kill _our_ son.”

Clark grimaced, then sighed. He turned and slowly began to pick up the globe.

“I wish he was never born.” Clark mumbled, but they all heard him loud and clear.

But before he could lift the monument even an inch, Batman dropped out of seemingly nowhere, a green, glowing blade in his hand.

Without preamble, he shoved the dagger into Clark’s side. Reluctantly, he resisted the urge to twist it.

“And I wish you didn’t open your goddamn mouth.” He hissed as Clark dropped to his knees. He ripped the knife out, kept it tight in his fist as he backed towards Lois. When Clark didn’t move, other than to drop painfully onto his side, Bruce risked turning, kneeling in front of their sons.

Jon still had tears streaming down his face, and Bruce knew it was Clark’s words that stung the most, more than any injury. Damian was just watching, muscles tense, like he was ready to jump into action at Bruce’s command.

So instead, he softly reached his hand out to hold Damian’s face. “Are you alright?”

“We’ll live.” Damian murmured as Lois engulfed Jon in her arms. “So long as you continue to stop him from throwing that stupid globe.”

Bruce gave him a smile and leaned forward to hook an arm under Damian’s thighs. He stood with Damian tight to his chest, and kept his grip on the Kryptonite knife as he backed away from Lois and Jon, and turned back to Clark.

Clark, who was still groaning, green coloring his skin and veins. Clark, who was blinking, that mysterious black disappearing more and more every time his eyes reopened.

“Wha…? Why…?” Clark murmured as he struggled to sit up, hand clasping over the bleeding wound in his side. “Bruce? What happened? Did you…?”

Jon whimpered at the sound of his voice, and Bruce glanced back. Jon was clinging to his mother, sobbing into her shoulder even as she tried to whisper reassurances into his hair.

His father was possessed, she offered. He didn’t mean anything he said. He didn’t mean anything he did. _He loves you, Jon,_ she pleaded. _He loves you so much._

“Diana and a few of the Lanterns are on their way.” Bruce called to her. Lois glanced up. “I called them for assistance, see if they can help us figure out what’s going on, while we get the boys home.”

Lois nodded.

“What…what happened, Batman?” Clark asked again, his voice shrinking with every word. Bruce looked back, tightening his grip on Damian. Damian, who was still trembling slightly, whose breathing sounded like it _hurt_. And Clark was smart. Despite what people thought, Clark wasn’t naïve at all, not even a little bit. He could read the room, he could decipher evidence. He looked at Bruce, fear in his eyes. “…What did I do?”

Bruce glanced between the Kents, sighed as Damian leaned his head exhaustedly against his shoulder. And when Clark shifted to move towards his wife and child, Bruce found himself stepping between them, standing protectively in front of Lois and Jon, knife still tight in his hand as he kept Damian turned away.

“You don’t want to know right now, Clark.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was some evil space magic shit, obviously. And was mitigated by the pain/sudden shock to his system.


	3. Held at Gunpoint - Jason and Damian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He had no choice. There was no way out.

He’d been sitting in this room for hours, it felt like. Forced to his knees, a hood over his head, hands chained behind his back. He sensed a guard in the corner of the room, one with a gun, for if he moved so much as a centimeter.

So, just your typical Tuesday night.

But he turned his head towards the sound of a door opening, and footsteps. One set steady, the other stumbling, like they couldn’t see where they were going, or being dragged.

Suddenly, the hood was ripped from his head, and as he blinked away the darkness, his heart instantly sank.

The second set of footsteps, the ones stumbling, belonged to Robin.

 _Shit_.

Damian was just getting a hood ripped off his own head, his eyes blinking rapidly behind his mask. As soon as the hood was gone, the man who had brought him in had a clawed glove grabbing at his throat.

The child didn’t seem worried about the threat, though. His eyes widening when he recognized the one kneeling in front of him.

“Red Hood…?” He whispered.

Jason grinned and gave him a wink.

“Howdy, kid.” He hummed. “Fancy meeting you here.”

“Shut up.” The man behind Damian snapped, shaking Damian by the neck. “Both of you shut the hell up, and do exactly as I say.”

Jason frowned. “You better hope our employer doesn’t show up and see you doing that.”

The man, face dirty and greasy, just glared at him, before digging in the pocket of his coat and pulling out a gun, shoving it into Damian’s hands.

As Damian fumbled with it, making sure it wasn’t dropped and accidentally set off, the man shoved him forward. “Shoot him.”

Damian’s face tightened. “No.”

“Aw, kid.” Jason teased. “I didn’t know you ca-”

The man instantly pulled out a second gun, cocked it, and held it against the back of Damian’s head. “Then I shoot you.”

Jason’s jovial attitude dropped immediately. “Now buddy…”

“He shoots you or I shoot him. That’s the only way it ends.” The man snapped. His pupils were dilated, he was clearly hopped up on something. “That’s the only way I _want_ it to end.”

“Then shoot me yourself.” Jason countered. Damian stood statue still, eyes lowered, focused on the man and weapon behind him. “Making him shoot me is the coward’s way out.”

“No, it’s more entertaining.” The man giggled. “Big local hero Robin kills a man? I coulda sold tickets for this. Been rich.”

Jason kept his focus. “Let the kid go.”

“Nah.” The man hummed. Keeping his clawed glove on Damian’s neck and his own gun in hand, he leaned around Damian and hooked a finger around the first gun, shoving it forward until it pressed into the skin of Jason’s forehead. Then he practically draped himself over Damian’s back, pushing his gun harder against Damian’s skull. “Do it.”

Damian’s lips trembled, but his voice was still firm. “No.”

The man raised his gun and shot into the air. Damian jumped as it was pressed back against his head, no doubt the still-hot muzzle burning. “You have five seconds.”

“I won’t.” Damian’s voice wavered now. “I refuse to-”

But there was no time to think. Jason knew that.

“Robin.” He murmured. Damian’s eyes jerked to his. He already knew what Jason was going to say, but tried to shake his head against it anyway. “Do it.”

“No.” Damian pushed.

“It’s okay.” Jason promised. “It’s fine. Better me than you.”

“Not better.” Damian hissed. His eyes were starting to mist now. “There’s got to be another-”

“The other way,” The man cooed, tongue practically in Damian’s ear. “Is I blow your fucking brains out.”

Damian tried to recoil, but he had nowhere to go. He was stuck in the man’s grasp. His hand was stuck in the gun pressed to Jason’s head. He could feel the man tremble, his finger twitching against the trigger against his own head.

“It’s not your fault.” Jason tried to soothe. “No one will blame you.”

“I’m not shooting you.” Damian said with finality. A tear rolled out of his mask. “I’m not _killing_ you.”

“And I’m not killing _you_.” Jason countered.

“Buy time.” Damian breathed, for just Jason to hear, not the crazed man behind him. “Batman will-”

“Five seconds.” The man slurred.

“Robin.” Jason demanded. Ordered, in what he hoped was a voice that sounded like Dick or Bruce. “Do. It.”

Damian opened his mouth to argue, to give himself time. But the man dug those claws into his neck, blood began to ooze down his throat.

“Four…three…”

“I’m sorry.” Damian cried quietly. “I’m so sorry.”

“Two…”

“It’s okay, kid.” Jason closed his eyes, leaned into the gun. “…It’s okay.”

“One…”

Damian shot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe I’ll make a poll to see what ending y’all want, like the good ol’ days.


	4. Buried Alive - Damian and Jon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He should have listened closer to Jason’s stories.

Damian tried to keep his breath even and slow. He’d been in close, dark quarters like this before. It was a test with the League when he was younger. To control fear. To problem solve. To save himself. He’d even heard stories from Todd, about digging himself out of a grave with his bare hands.

He regretted not listening to those stories closer, now that he was in the same position.

“D?” Jon’s voice crackled through his earpiece. “Can you still hear me?”

Damian swallowed the lump in his throat. That’s right, their enemy had knocked him out and buried him, but they hadn’t taken his belt. Hadn’t taken his communicator. And now Jon was searching the globe for him by his heartbeat.

“Yes.”

“Okay. I’m coming.” Jon promised, voice desperate. “Just…don’t panic, okay? I’m coming. I’m going to find you.”

“I believe you.” Damian closed his eyes, pressed his hand against the coffin lid that was inches from his face. “I…trust you.”

The line hissed again. “Stop talking.” Tim demanded desperately. “Stop wasting your air.”

“I still have enough for a few hours.” Damian said in an attempt to calm his brother. And since when did he worry about that, calming Tim Drake. “I’m still okay.”

“I said shut up.” Tim hissed. “Kon, do you have _anything_?”

“No more than Jonno.” Kon said, nonchalantly. An attempt to be the calm one of the searchers, no doubt. “Relax, Red.”

“I’ll relax when we find him.” Tim snapped. “I’ll relax when Robin is fucking _safe_.”

“…I think I’m getting closer!” Jon suddenly announced. “It’s…his heartbeat is louder. That means I’m getting closer, right, Conner?”

“Should.” Kon hummed. “Let me meet up with you to confirm. You following, Red?”

“On the road right under you now.” Tim confirmed. “…Hang on, Damian. We’re coming.”

He knew that. Reiterating the point was useless.

“Just…if you start to panic.” Tim must have realized the fact himself. “Focus on our voices, okay?”

“Okay.” Damian said shortly. He hooked his nails into the wood, clung to it. He’d already attempted the clawing, the tips of his gloves destroyed, his fingers bloody. He wasn’t going to mention it.

“But don’t go to sleep!” Jon shouted. “It’ll slow your heartbeat, and we might lose track of it!”

Damian felt a smile quirk at his lips. God, was he grateful Jon Kent was his friend.

So he settled in and listened. Did what Tim said, focused on their voices and their words. Tried to map in his head the coordinates they were relaying to each other, since he didn’t even know where he had been buried.

Tried not to cry whenever his father or Grayson popped onto the line to give their own updates.

“I’m giving you all ten more minutes.” Bruce growled, as he raced along his own leads. “Then I’m getting the Justice League and every goddamn Green Lantern in this sector involved.”

“If I were still Batman, I would have already fucking called them, B.” Dick had retorted.

“It’s fine.” Damian whispered. “I’m fine. There’s…no rush.”

“There’s literally nothing but a rush, Robin.” Dick hummed sweetly in response. “We’re coming, kiddo.”

And the ten minutes was almost up, when suddenly Jon screamed. Guttural, loud, joyful.

“I think…Conner!” He shouted. Damian winced at the pitch. “I think it’s…here!”

“Then let’s get down there, Jonno.” Conner answered, just as excited. Clearly, his abilities were telling him the same.

And they must have been right, because a second later, Damian felt the earth around him shudder. He lurched in hope, instantly hitting his head against the coffin lid.

“I’m here.” He gasped, pushing against the lid. It, of course, didn’t budge. But that didn’t matter. “I’m _here_ …!”

“I think…if I use the x-ray…” Jon mumbled. Then it sounded like he was running. “…There! I see it! I see the box!”

“Sending our coordinates to everyone.” Tim announced.

There was suddenly heavy grinding noises coming from above him. “Block your face, kid.” Kon huffed. “We’re coming in hot.”

Damian nodded and tried to roll onto his side. A tight squeeze, given the space, but he made due. Hopefully he’d only have to lay that way for a few seconds.

He heard Tim apparently join the two Kent boys, and the discussion of using a small explosive to blast some of the dirt in the way. Seconds later, he heard just that, and the ground shook again.

And he had barely recovered from that, from the noise, and even the idea that they were using a _bomb_ feet above his head, when the lid to the coffin was launched away, and the shadow of Kon-El loomed above him.

Damian blinked rapidly, lifting a hand to block the sunlight, as Kon gently hooked his hands under Damian’s arms and lifted him.

“Stiff?” Kon asked softly as they rose out of the hole. “You’ve been down there a while.”

“A little.” Damian admitted as Kon set him on solid ground. Tim was a few feet away, chattering away to the comm. line that Damian could still hear, telling them they’d won. They’d succeeded. They’d found him. “…Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me.” Kon smiled, patting his shoulder. “Jon did most of the-”

“Damian!” The boy in question screamed, all but tackling Damian. He enveloped Damian in his arms, clinging like his life depended on it. “You’re alive, you’re okay-”

“But still hurt.” Kon reminded. “So be gentle, Superboy.”

“-you’re _here_.” Jon exclaimed, almost tearfully. “We _found_ you!”

“Thank you.” Damian smiled, returning the embrace. The first, he felt, that he’d ever willingly took part in. “Thank you for finding me, Jon.”

Jon leaned back, keeping one of Damian’s arms around his neck to help him out of the field. A cornfield, Damian was realizing now. The baddie had buried him in the middle of a cornfield, in the middle of nowhere. “It’s what best friends are for, D.”

Damian smiled as he watched Tim turn to the sky, waving down the jet that carried Grayson and Todd. He slumped against Jon’s side, allowing himself to silently ask for that help that was already being so freely offered

“And you are indeed the best I could ever ask for.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first ground shaking was Jon landing, because he’s a cute lil uncoordinated baby.


	5. Rescue - Jason and Dick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Joker wouldn’t kill him again.

This wasn’t…the most ideal situation. And oh boy, was his tough guy exterior struggling to deal with it.

But he had a feeling no one would blame him. After all, getting captured and cornered by the guy who killed you once upon a time wouldn’t really be considered _fun_ by anyone else, he didn’t think.

Still, he couldn’t control his heartbeat, or the fearful twitching of his knee every step the Joker took closer to him, the crowbar dragging on the ground behind him.

“This was always my favorite memory.” The Joker sneered wistfully. Jason instinctively tried to push backwards on his butt, but he was already pressed tight to the warehouse wall. The Joker knew it too, and let his grin widen. “Want to relive the moment with me?”

“F-fuck off.” Jason tried, but he knew he sounded like that fifteen-year-old he was all those years ago. That scared kid who was regretting every choice he’d made that night. Only now his injuries were different. Now, his knee was dislocated, and he couldn’t walk. Now his hands were both cut to hell, disabling him from shooting. Now, he wasn’t even tied up, not like he was back then. “I ain’t scared of you.”

“Your sweet little voice says otherwise, my birdie boy.” The Joker spun around gleefully, tapping the crowbar against the ground like it was a dancing prop. “But you know what I like more than your voice?”

Jason stared at him, trying his best to keep his face neutral, to keep at least some of his terror hidden.

“Come on.” The Joker urged. “Guess. What do I like better than your pretty voice?”

Jason sighed, rolled his eyes. “What?”

The Joker shifted his grip on the crowbar, already starting to swing it even as he whispered:

“Your scream.”

Jason did the only thing he could. He curled in on himself, tried to lift his arm enough to protect his head. Waited.

But a blow never came.

He peeked carefully under his elbow, and blinked in confusion. The Joker was no longer standing there. The crowbar was gone.

But…what?

He hesitantly uncurled, glancing around. He didn’t hit his head in this fiasco, right? This wasn’t all just some crazy hallucination?

No, it wasn’t. It didn’t take long to refind the old freak. He was across the warehouse now. Lying spread eagle on the ground.

Nightwing stood over him. And he held the crowbar now.

“Your favorite memory was killing him, hm?” Dick asked quietly. The Joker giggled. “Want to know what mine was?”

The Joker didn’t answer. Dick didn’t ask him again.

“Killing you.” And it was miniscule, but the Joker’s smile faltered, just a little bit. “And I can’t wait to do it again.”

Dick swung. And swung. And swung.

And _swung_.

The Joker eventually stopped laughing, started grunting with every hit. Jason couldn’t speak, couldn’t think. Could only barely hobble himself onto his good leg, and lean against the nearest wall.

Suddenly there was static on his communicator.

“Nightwing!”

It was Robin, and his voice, for some reason, sounded so small in this scenario. So young.

Younger than Jason when he died, his mind supplied. Younger than when Jason started patrolling as Robin.

“Stop.” Damian continued. Jason glanced around. Was the kid here too? Could Jason just not see him?

He must not have been, because Dick didn’t do what he demanded. He didn’t stop swinging the crowbar. The Joker’s white face was covered in red now.

“I said stop!” Damian hissed. Jason heard him pound a fist against a table. So definitely not here. “Remember your primary mission!”

That seemed to make Dick slow a little.

“What’s your primary mission?” Damian demanded. Dick let the tip of the crowbar drop to the ground. The Joker didn’t move. “Tell me so I know you remember!”

Dick stood there a moment, shoulders heaving from the exertion. Then he slowly turned, looking back at Jason.

“Bring Red Hood home.”

“Good, so you’re not a complete idiot.” Damian sighed, almost in relief. “Now go do it.”

Dick just stared for a moment.

“Do it or I’m sending Red Robin in!”

That seemed to shake Dick from his furious stupor. “No.” He ordered, swinging his leg over the Joker. Jason couldn’t tell if he was still breathing or not. “Both of you stay back. It’s not safe here.”

“No shit.” Tim suddenly chimed in. “I’ve almost got the lock, by the way. So it’s not an empty threat.”

“…Lock?” Jason murmured as Dick neared him.

“I locked them in the cave.” Dick grinned. “We already knew the Joker had you, I wasn’t about to risk them too. Batman and Black Bat noticed what I was doing and got the Batmobile out before I sealed it.” His smile dropped instantly as he looked Jason over, though. “…Think you can walk?”

Jason glanced at his knee. It was visibly bent the wrong way. “…Not quickly.”

Dick glanced him up and down again, then silently turned around and crouched.

“Hop on, Little Wing.” He hummed, smacking his shoulder.

“You’re fucking joking.” Jason snorted. “You can’t carry me.”

“I can carry you as far as the bike.” Dick tried.

“Then my fat ass will break _your_ knee, and we _will_ have to call the kids.” Jason countered.

“I’m not coming for you.” Damian quipped on the open line. “It was Nightwing’s priority mission. Not mine.”

“I’m inclined to agree.” Tim sniffed.

“And here I thought you two were worried about me.” Jason drawled. Both the younger scoffed.

“Come on, Hood.” Dick sighed. “It’s our only way. And I love proving you wrong.”

“I hate you.” Jason sighed, all but falling forward. He instantly wrapped his arms around Dick’s neck, as Dick carefully pulled at his thighs. “…Thanks for coming to get me.”

“It’s what I’m here for.” Dick smiled. “How many times have I told you, Jay? I’m not losing you again. I _refuse_.”

Jason snorted as Dick started walking, surprisingly more stable than Jason assumed he would be. As Dick walked towards the door, Jason glanced back. The Joker hadn’t moved since about midway through Dick’s assault. And he still wasn’t now. But the blood was still seeping, still turning his face and clothes and skin a deep red.

“…Did you actually kill him?” Jason whispered.

Dick paused and looked back himself. Then he shrugged and continued into the cool night.

“Who cares?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angry Dickie is my favorite Dickie.


	6. "Get It Out" - Steph, Tim and Damian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They were lucky Steph found him.

Tim was unaware of anything major happening that night. Was doing his normal route. Finishing said route, actually, was just heading home, when Steph suddenly binged his private line.

“I need your help.” She huffed. He could hear a scuffle in the background. “Bring a sedative or a…a fix-all antidote, or _cuffs_ or something.”

“On my way.” He pressed the GPS on his gauntlet. “This for anyone we know?”

“Unfortunately.” There was a scream in the background. “Robin.”

_Oh._

And it wasn’t _who_ it was that made him hurry, but that last second scream he heard. It had clearly been Damian, and he was clearly…scared? Hurt? Frustrated? He couldn’t tell.

The GPS led him to an abandoned apartment building, fourth floor. He heard the struggle as soon as he was in the hallway, and ran towards the sound.

He found them in the middle of an empty living room. Damian was on his back, Stephanie over him, grappling for his wrists. Damian was doing everything he could to push her hands away, to continue clawing at his own chest.

“Batgirl…?” Tim tried. Damian didn’t seem to hear him.

“A…I don’t know. Poison? Toxin? Hallucinogen?” She said solemnly as Tim knelt on Damian’s other side. “I found him like this, on the roof. I chased him in here. But…”

“But?”

“His vitals are reading normal, according to Bruce’s tech.” Steph mumbled. “There’s _nothing_ in his system, Tim.”

“It’s…in here.” Damian whispered harshly. There was sweat pouring down his face. His tunic was open, and his gloves were off, but Tim couldn’t see them lying in the room anywhere. “ _It’s in here_.”

“What is?” Tim asked gently. Suddenly, Damian’s hands were back at his own chest, his nails digging into his own skin. Steph lashed out again, tried to grab his wrists and yank them up. Damian thrashed in her hold. Tim tried to help by holding down the boy’s shoulders. “ _What’s_ in _where_?”

“My chest. My _skin_. It’s crawling around.” Damian listed. He wasn’t looking at either of them, gaze a thousand yards away. “I can feel it. It’s in here.”

“Crawling…” Steph muttered. Glanced up. “Parasite?”

“A manmade one, if it is.” Tim surmised. He grunted as Damian bucked. “But who’s dabbling in organic weapons like this? Surely not Crane, or Victor.”

“New player?”

“Could be.” Damian whined again, trying to pull his arms back. “…Why’d you call me? Dick and Bruce are both available. Probably could handle this a lot better than you or me.”

Suddenly Damian froze. Steph and Tim both leaned back slightly. Without warning, Damian let his hands become dead weight, and Steph let them lay on his chest.

“My heart.” Damian whispered. “It’s in my _heart_. I can feel it moving. It’s right there.” His eyes trailed over to Tim. “Get it out.”

“W-what?”

“Get my heart out!” Damian shrieked. Immediately, he started clawing again, fighting against Steph with an almost inhuman strength. “Take my heart out, that’ll kill it!”

Steph glared up at Tim. “You really wondered why I didn’t call them?” She snapped. “It’d kill them seeing him like this.”

“They’re going to see him like this anyway, whenever we can get him home.” Tim hissed back. “…But I guess you’re right. They’re better used out in the field, finding whoever Robin ran into tonight.”

“True. I’d like to beat that bitch’s face in myself.” Steph agreed. “You bring that sedative I told you to?”

“Yeah, I have one.” Tim leaned down and helped push Damian’s hands away from his chest. Blood was pooling there now, his own nails making quite the impact. As soon as they were far enough, Tim wrapped the sides of his tunic tightly back around him, holding them down with his hand. When Damian’s fingers got close enough again, all he could cling to was Tim’s fingers. “You got him?”

“Yeah.” Steph grunted. “Hit him.”

Tim nodded, absently opening the pouch on his belt he knew carried the sedative. He grit his teeth as Damian’s nails ripped at his gloves, uncapped the needle and plunged it into his throat.

It took another thirty seconds for the drug to take hold, but when it finally did, Steph hit her communicator to call Batman and Nightwing.

As she relayed the message, Tim kept an eye on Damian’s vitals. He kept two fingers to his throat as his movements slowed, then checked his pulse again on his wrist as his arms went limp.

When he was definitely asleep, Tim reopened his tunic to place a quick piece of gauze on his self-inflicted wound. He then closed the tunic and reclasped it, gathering Damian into his arms.

“…That’d be cute if he wasn’t potentially dying from something we can’t detect.” Steph said bitterly as ended her call.

Tim snorted a laugh. “They already on the move?”

“Oracle was already sending Robin’s mask footage to Batman, and Alfred will have the medbay ready for our arrival.” She sniffed and stood, stretching her back. “Remote Batmobile should be here in five.”

“Cool.” Tim hummed. He hooked his arms under Damian’s knees and shoulders, and accepted Steph’s hand on his back to help him stand. “…You think he would have done it?”

“Done what?”

“Ripped his own heart out.” Tim murmured. “You know, if you hadn’t found him.”

“…He’s a former assassin. I bet ripping hearts out is a skill he has.” She winced. “So. Probably.”

“Hm.” Tim sighed, as they walked into the hallway. “Batgirl?”

She glanced over her shoulder. “Yeah?”

“I can’t wait until we catch the scumbag who did this to him.” Tim decided. “So we can all beat the shit out of them together.”

Steph smiled, but it was angry and bitter. “You and me both, Red.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They, of course, have to pull Dick off the baddie who infected him so Steph can get her celebratory ‘she saved the baby’ punches in.


	7. Support/Carrying - Jason and Tim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason knew a thing or two about in securities.

Jason couldn’t help but chuckle throughout the whole ordeal.

“In you go, little baby.” He teased, lowering Tim as gently as he could.

Tim groaned dramatically. “Just leave me here to die, man.”

“No can do.” Jason sighed wistfully. “Cassie likes you too much. She’d kill me if I left you here.” He sniffed, waited until Tim situated himself to a little more comfortable a position. “Besides, embarrassment is a shitty thing to die of.”

“That’s why you’d leave me here. I’d rather die of the _elements_ , than _embarrassment_.” Tim snapped. He slumped back. “I mean, picture yourself in my position. You really _want_ to be wheeled back into the bunker with a broken leg…in a freaking _kids’ wagon_?”

They’d found it next to the dumpster of the apartment building they’d just left. And if Jason hadn’t also been hurt in the fight – a dislocated left shoulder and sprained ankle at least – then they wouldn’t have even looked at it twice. He’d have carried Tim on his own.

But considering they’d been captured and driven to said apartment building, and that they were closer to the Bat-Bunker downtown than where their bikes _might_ be, it was really their only option if they wanted to get anywhere before bleeding out or exhausting themselves to the point of collapse.

Jason snorted again in amusement. “I don’t know, man. I might feel like I was in a parade or something.”

“Yeah, the world’s saddest parade. Whoopie.” Tim scoffed, crossing his arms. He tensed his muscles, took a deep inhale.

“Leg hurt?” Tim pursed his lips, reluctantly nodded. “Then this is what we’ve gotta do, kid. Sorry we don’t all have fancy cars like B-man has.”

“At least he’s out of town.” Tim mumbled as Jason picked up the wagon’s handle. “I might just kill myself if he was there when we got in.”

“Right, he’d be the worst.” Jason drawled as he rolled his eyes. “So it’s great that it’ll just be Damian there instead, huh?”

Tim froze as Jason stepped out onto the street. “…He’s out of town.”

Jason clicked his tongue, waving as a drunk couple walked by them, staring. “Got back last night. He and ‘Wing are staying at the Tower for some dumb sentimental reason. I don’t know, kid didn’t say why.”

“Oh no.” Tim slouched in the wagon, let the back ledge dig into his neck. “Oh… _no_.”

“What, thought you were just going to run into our sister? A certain blonde?” Jason laughed. “And Duke is with B.”

Tim hid his face in his hands, curled in on himself. “Jay, please, for the love of god. Seriously. Just kill me.”

Jason stopped at a crosswalk, watching the blinking orange hand. He glanced back at Tim, but frowned. At first he thought Tim was just being purposefully dramatic, but as he watched Tim run his fingers through his hair, sigh deeply every few seconds, keep his eyes closed in focus, he frowned.

“…The kid isn’t going to make fun of you. You know that right?” Jason mumbled. “He’s grown past that shit. He…kinda likes you now, I’m pretty sure.”

“Yeah, okay.” Tim scoffed. “If you say so.”

“I’m serious.” Jason pushed. “And, really, so what if Bruce saw you? I mean, he’s going to know you broke your leg eventually. Probably by tomorrow, from Alfred.”

Tim remained curled around himself, sheepishly shrugged his shoulders.

“…You never got over that, did you?”

“…Got over what.”

“Thinking you’re not good enough.” Jason accused as the light turned and he stepped off the curb. “That one wrong move and you’re getting kicked out of the family, or the costume, or whatever.”

“Are you saying you did?” Tim snapped in defense. Jason didn’t take it personally.

“I never had to get over a fear of being kicked out. I left of my own free will.” Jason hummed.

“Oh yeah. You left so hard you come back every Sunday for brunch still.” Tim pouted. “And keep a room at the manor, and use the library and the kitchen and-”

“Alright so maybe _left_ was the wrong word.” Jason drawled. “But…you know…” He sighed. “See, that’s the difference between me, Dick, Cass, Steph, and the rest of you. You all still care too much about impressing each other and being good enough and shit. _Legacies_.”

“That is literally the opposite of what is true for you and the girls. Your legacy is just from an evil madman.” Tim hummed. “Dick is the only one who creates his own legacies, not follows one. And even him you can’t count completely. He was Batman for god’s-”

“Will you let me just compliment you, Red?” Jason cut off. “Fuck almighty!”

Tim sucked his lips through his teeth.

“…I’m not going to stand here and tell you that you shouldn’t feel not good enough. Every one of us do, and me telling you that you _are_ good enough and always _have_ been might not get through that wall in your brain, especially now that you got knocked on your ass. I get that. Totally.” Jason explained. “But what I _am_ going to remind you of is the fact that the family loves you. A lot.”

“Yeah, I kno-”

“No, you don’t.” Jason hummed simply. “Because if you did, you wouldn’t be more focused on being embarrassed than the fact that you’re hurt.”

Tim blinked, and glanced at his leg.

“And…yeah, okay. If there’s one thing I learned about our ragtag crew of psychopaths, it’s that they’re…eternally unconditional.” Jason lifted his hand to flip off a car that catcalled them as it sped by. “That means forever, no matter what. I learned that in recent years. Damian luckily learned it faster than the rest of us, thanks to Dickie. The girls are better at emoting than the rest of us so they got it on like, day one. So. Now it’s your turn.”

Tim silently reached out to test the pressure points on his legs, feel where it’s more painful.

“Christ, kid and I have killed people. You’re really going to let your brain make you think they’re going to suddenly hate you or think less of you because you broke your leg?”

“I mean…” Tim tried to smile. “I didn’t say that…”

“You didn’t have to.” Jason smirked. “Like you just said yourself in a roundabout way, I’ve already been there.”

Tim leaned forward, doubling over his leg, stretching his back a little, focusing on that pain, not the one in his leg.

“Now their worry over your leg, and yes I include Robin in that, that’ll probably be a little annoying and smothering.” Jason rambled. “But they’re not smothering because they hate you, that’s for sure. So. You know. Try to remind yourself of that when your brain starts to get a little wild.”

Tim glanced up as they rounded the corner. “…You including yourself in this little emotional intervention?”

“I’m pulling you in a fucking wagon in downtown Gotham City.” Jason snapped. “What the hell do you think?”

Tim smiled. Laughed lightly, but grabbed his chest when it rattled his nerves and flared through his leg.

“…Thanks, Jay.”

“Don’t mention it.” Jason sighed, looking up at Wayne Tower as it appeared in the distance. “Seriously, don’t. Dick and Duke will never let me live it down.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tim gets hopped up on pain killers later and thanks Damian for not laughing at him and Damian’s never been more confused in his life. Jason just pats his head and tells him to smile and nod


	8. Isolation - Dick and Damian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damian left, they said. Well, Dick was going to find him.

“So let me get this straight.” Dick sighed, fingers gripping the little sticky note so tightly it shook. “You know where he is?”

Tim at least had the sense to look a little ashamed. “Yes.”

“And…you haven’t gone to see him?” Dick asked. “You haven’t gone and _dragged_ his ass home?”

“Dick, it’s more complicated than that.” Tim almost pleaded. “You don’t know what _happened_.”

“I don’t _care_ what happened.” Dick spit. “He’s part of this goddamn family. He walked out and you all, what? Just said good riddance and went about your day?”

“Dick.” He glanced over to Barbara, sitting by the weapons bench. “You really don’t understand what happened.” She narrowed her eyes. “Or _why_.”

“Does it matter?” Dick threw his hands out, already exasperated. “It’s Damian, okay? And he’s…fucking _fourteen_.”

“In the grand scheme of things, probably not.” Barbara shrugged. “But in the context of _why_ he left and _what_ he’s feeling? It absolutely does. And you should probably at least attempt to educate yourself before running after him.”

“If only out of respect for him.” Tim added. “…He’s not well, Dick. And you, of _all_ people, showing up out of the blue is probably not going to help, despite precedence saying otherwise.”

Dick shook his head. “No, I…no. I’m not letting him be out there alone another goddamn minute.” He crinkled the sticky note. “I _refuse_.”

He turned and stomped out of the cave.

~~

The address was on a bad side of town. Not even Jason would stay here.

There was no one else living in the building, just a few squatters who stared at him as he roamed the halls, counting the doors. The ones that had numbers on them, anyway.

He found the apartment on the top floor. There were two bags of groceries outside the door, handles tied, along with a first aid kit.

So maybe the family did visit after all.

Dick knocked gently on the door, but there was no answer. That didn’t matter, he’d made a living out of annoying people until they gave him what he wanted.

He knocked a second time, but there was still nothing. So he tried the doorknob. And it was surprisingly, and concerningly, unlocked.

So he picked up the bags and kit, and pushed the door open. But he didn’t get past the doorframe before his heart broke.

There was nothing in the studio apartment. No pictures or furniture. Just a dirty, naked mattress pushed against a corner.

Parts of Damian’s gear and bandage wrappers were strewn across the floor, along with bloodstains blotching the floor every few feet. The various colors of brown proved that they were from different incidents.

The kitchen was bare, a few take out boxes here and there. A thermos Dick recognized from the manor sat on the counter next to empty bags that matched the full ones he held.

But none of that was the saddest part. No, that was Damian, who was curled up on that disgusting mattress.

He was dead asleep, curled in on himself to keep warm since there was no blanket. He wore a pair of boxers and a sweatshirt, and both were very obviously in need of a wash or two. His face was pale, with black circles under his eyes. He was too thin. There were headphones in his ears, and snot running slowly out of his nose.

He was sick. He was alone, he was starving, and he was _sick_.

And he wouldn’t let his family help him.

Dick swallowed the sudden lump in his throat and ducked over to the kitchen to drop off the groceries that Alfred, he assumed, had left. Then he stepped over the clothes and weapons and silently lowered himself until he was sitting on the edge of the bed.

Damian didn’t move.

Closer, he could see a few beads of sweat along Damian’s hairline, dried snot lined both nostrils and his lips were chapped.

Tears prickled his eyes as he reached out and laid the back of his hands on Damian’s forehead. He was on _fire_.

Damian still didn’t stir. Dick removed his hand to quickly pull his jacket off and lay it across Damian’s torso. Then he pulled a headphone from Damian’s ear, and began running his fingers through Damian’s greasy hair.

“Hey, kiddo.” He whispered. “Can you hear me?”

Damian’s eyes scrunched slightly, but then they slowly peeled open. He blinked a few times, eyes unfocused, before glancing upwards, towards the hand he seemed only just now noticed.

He just looked so exhausted.

“Hey Damian.” Dick repeated again. He tried to smile. “Long time no see.”

Damian just blinked at him, and that seemed like almost too much for him to do.

“…Grayson? Is that you?” Damian wheezed. He tried to shift his hands to push onto his elbows, but the movement was too hard. “You’re…you’re not a hallucination this time?”

Dick wanted to sob.

“Nope, I’m real.” Dick promised. Gently he shifted his hands to Damian’s shoulders and pulled him up so he could envelop him in his arms. Damian slumped bonelessly against his throat, and Dick hooked his chin over his head. “And I finally found you.”

“I’m sorry.” Damian slurred in a tired mumble. Dick could feel his lashes flutter against his skin as Damian struggled to stay conscious. “I’m sorry I wasn’t stronger. Wasn’t _better_. I’m sorry I wasn’t who you thought I could be.”

Dick shook his head, lifted his hand to curl into Damian’s hair. Jason had mentioned it, Damian was killing people again. Had some mental break that none of them would explain to him and ran off. And that’s all he knew. But he didn’t care. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was Damian was back in his arms. That Damian was here. That Damian was sick and alone and Dick was going to make sure he was neither of those things any more, even if that meant he stayed in this nasty apartment with him.

All that mattered was:

“I finally found you, kiddo.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More post Teen Titans Annual 2 garbage just because. Damian really isn’t conscious in this, despite him talking. It’s that kind of sleep.


	9. "Take Me Instead" - Damian, Conner and Clark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clark couldn’t believe this. Lex couldn’t really either.

He should call Batman.

There’d been a distress signal from Superman, so of course Batman and Robin jumped on the case. They followed the signal to a lab in Metropolis, and split up upon arrival to cover more ground.

No problem.

Damian found them first, but was surprised that it wasn’t just Clark. Conner was with him too. They were both on the floor, hands tied with Kryptonite-laced chains.

Lex Luthor stood before them.

“We need to know. What you can do, what you’re made of.” Luthor shrugged. “The only way to do so is to study you.”

“Let the boy go, then.” Clark growled. “You abandoned him before. You don’t get to just…waltz back into his life to hurt him like this.”

“He’s part human.” Lex explained, like he was speaking to an infant. “He’s a whole study on his own.”

“Kal, it’s…” Conner started. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not.” Clark hissed.

“Better me than…” Conner trailed off then, but Damian knew who he meant. Better Conner, the accident, than Jon, the birth son. The child. The one every Super loved more than anything in the solar system.

“No.” Clark whispered, shaking his head. “No, it’s not…”

And that was enough for Damian. Without thinking, he strolled into the room, out into the open, clearing his throat to gain Luthor’s attention.

Lex smirked. “Is this the calvary the League sent to save their precious Superman?”

“Perhaps.” Damian hummed, ignoring Clark’s panicked stare as he stood in front of him and his counterpart. “Might I make you a counteroffer?”

Lex frowned. “I beg your pardon?”

“A counteroffer.” Damian explained slowly, a patronizing smile on his own face. “Something for you to take instead of Superman and your mutual clone.”

Lex didn’t take the bait. “Nothing matches Superman. I don’t think I have to tell Batman’s partner that.”

“Let me make my offer, then. You’re always free to turn it down.” Damian said simply.

“Fine.” Lex sighed. “What is your counteroffer?”

“Take me instead.”

He heard Clark try to lunge behind him, but paid no mind. Kept his eyes on Lex, and his focus on his pitch.

Lex scoffed. “And what’s _your_ worth?”

“From the outside, not much.” Damian admitted. He heard Conner asking Clark what was happening. “But that’s the fun thing about this costume. It hides who I am.”

“And who are you?”

“I am the grandson of Ra’s al Ghul. I have the waters of Lazarus, of _immortality_ , running through my veins.” Already, Lex’s interest was piqued, if his rising eyebrows was anything to go by. “I’ve also been killed before, and resurrected by the Chaos Shard, a mineral found only on Apokalips. It gave me superpowers, similar to those of Superman. They’ve faded now, but I’m sure the gene is still in my DNA somewhere.”

“Robin.” Clark called. “Robin, please stop…”

“But if you were to take a blood sample, I’d come back looking completely human.” Damian shrugged. “And isn’t that interesting?”

Lex stared for a moment, then narrowed his eyes. “You’re bluffing.”

“How do you know unless you study me?” Damian grinned himself. Then he hooked his finger onto the collar of his cape. “I can show you my death scar, if you’d like.”

“Robin!” Clark screamed.

Lex held up his hand. “And what do you want in return?”

“Superman and his partner go free. You don’t bother them.” Damian hesitated. “And you let me untie them.”

“Now, my boy-”

“With the promise that if they try to attack you, you have full permission to kill me on the spot.” Damian said simply. “I won’t fight back.”

“…You aren’t doing this for the greater good.” Lex surmised. “So what do you get out of doing this?”

“I get enough.” Damian said. “But it’s a personal matter.”

Lex nodded thoughtfully. “Grandson of Ra’s…Talia is your mother?”

“Yes.”

“I can tell. You negotiate like her.” Lex smiled, clapped his hands together. “Very well. I accept your offer.”

“Lex!” Clark shrieked. “No!”

“Go free your friends.” Lex waved nonchalantly. He reached his other hand into his pocket and pulled out a key, tossing it Damian’s direction. “We need to be in the air and on our way to Cadmus in five minutes.”

Damian nodded as he caught the key, spinning instantly. Clark was still pulling at his bonds as Damian approached.

“What are you doing?!” Clark whispered angrily.

“The means of the many outweigh the means of the few.” Damian said simply, grabbing Clark’s arms and searching for the padlock. “Objectively, Superman is far more important than Robin.”

“He’s not.” Clark begged. “He’s _not_.”

“More people need Superman than Robin. We’re a dime a dozen.” Damian repeated, smiling at his own barb.

Clark spun his head around, fiercely whispered, “Damian…”

“Jon needs his father more than he needs me.” Damian snapped quietly back as the padlock yawned open. Before Clark could move, he dove over to Conner. “And Drake needs his best friend more than an obnoxious little brother.”

“That’s not true.” Conner shook his head. “Kid, that’s _not_ -”

His lock opened too, and Damian was instantly back on his feet, slowly walking backwards towards Lex.

But Clark was stubborn. He jumped forward and grabbed Damian’s shoulders.

“I…” He glanced back. Lex had already produced a gun. Loaded with Kryptonite laced bullets no doubt. So even if he jumped in front of Damian, he’d still die too. “…I’m coming after you. I promise. I’m not _leaving_ you. I’m not leaving you with him.”

Damian shrugged him off. “Focus on Superboy.” He said as he continued backwards, ripping the communicator from his ear. Clark knew he didn’t mean Conner. “Make sure he stays safe.”

“Robin.” Lex called. “The clock is ticking.”

Damian nodded and twisted away, jogging up to Lex’s side. Lex smiled in victory as he put a hand around Damian’s shoulder and led him quickly away. As soon as they disappeared, Conner made a move to run after them, but Clark grabbed his arm. Conner stared up at him incredulously, but as Clark heard the engine of a jet start up, he closed his eyes and turned his head away.

And it wasn’t a minute later, that Batman came running into the room, weapons at the ready.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sorry for that ending, y’all.


	10. Trail of Blood - Dick, Cass and Damian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was a trail of blood in Wayne Manor.

When Damian woke, he was surprised by how late in the morning it was. His father should have woken him for early training hours ago.

So he was ready to be angry as he stomped to his door. But when he opened it, he couldn’t help but freeze.

There was blood on the floor.

And not just a puddle. A long line of it, thin and browning, meaning it’d been there a while. He glanced down to the right and left, and it seemed to cover the length of the hallway.

That wasn’t good.

He heard the creak of the floor and spun around, fists ready. Cassandra stood there, her hands up in surrender as she turned the corner. He relaxed instantly. “Whose blood?”

She shrugged as she approached. Wordlessly she held her arms out, and Damian frowned. But she wiggled her fingers anyway.

“I don’t want you to…stand in it.” She offered. “And…I’m fast.”

 _If there’s a threat, I’m a faster runner than you_ , she meant. _I’ll get you to safety._

He pursed his lips for a moment, then sighed, accepting her lift. She held him against her hip, her grip tight, as they traveled down the hall.

“It goes downstairs.” Cass murmured. “I did not follow.”

“Have you seen anyone else?” Damian asked.

“No.” She said solemnly. “You?”

“No. I just woke up.” As they turned the corner, Damian pointed to the first door on the left. “Grayson.”

She nodded and stepped over the blood path. Damian began knocking as soon as they were close enough. He glanced down as they waited. The path didn’t come from here.

His shoulders relaxed a little bit.

A moment later, the door opened to reveal Dick, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“Hey, Cass. Didn’t realize you were in town.” He yawned. As he blinked, he took in the scene in front of him. Of his little sister carrying his little brother. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

“We don’t know.” Damian admitted as Cass pointed to the bloodstains on the floor. “We found this.”

Dick looked down and frowned. “Who else is in the house?”

“We don’t know.” Damian repeated. “We’re…checking right now, I guess.”

“Okay. Okay. Both of you stay with me.” Dick ordered as he stepped out of his room. He assumed they came from the hallway where Damian’s room was, so turned in the direction they wouldn’t have come from. The blood trailed continued here. “Tim’s not here, he’s in San Fran, he called last night. Jason I’m pretty sure was in Metropolis. …Steph?”

“At Barbara’s.” Cass supplied.

“Duke?” Damian asked.

“At a friend’s.” Dick answered. “And Alfie’s still in London, right?”

“Should be.” Damian nodded. “Until the end of the week.”

“Okay…” Dick listed, keeping his arm out to the side as he stepped forward. Cass walked carefully behind him. “That leaves…Bruce, right?”

Neither answered. Neither wanted to.

Dick followed the trail of blood with his eyes, and saw it curve towards an open door a little further down the hall.

His heart sank.

It was Bruce’s room.

He turned back immediately, took Cass by the shoulders. “You stay behind me at all times, and listen to every word I say, got it?” Cass and Damian both looked around him, to the blood’s source. “Especially if I say run. You _run_. Understood?”

Cass hoisted Damian higher onto her hip and nodded. “The blood goes downstairs.”

Dick glanced at it again. She was right, the pattern of the blood was clearly leading from the bedroom, not to it. He nodded again and stepped around her, and silently, the trio went towards the landing.

They stopped there, and listened. There was no sound, not even of a ticking clock. Together, they walked down the stairs, Dick tracking the trail a few feet ahead of them at all times. As they reached the floor, Dick watched the path disappear into the study.

He held his arm out and Cass stopped immediately. He glanced to the front door, then to her, and waited until she nodded in understanding. Damian frowned and shook his head. Dick ignored him and turned back towards the study.

There was no breeze that accompanied the clock door being opened, but Dick’s gut was telling him that it didn’t matter. That something was in the study. Something he wasn’t going to like.

He didn’t have any weapons on him, so just readied his fists instead as he stepped forward. His heart pounding, he kept his eyes on the blood, following its gruesome trail. He didn’t try to hide around the corner, didn’t try to sneak in, just walked into the open doorway, refusing to look up, just following the trail apparently left for them.

The blood led to a foot, which led to a leg, then a bloody torso, where the trail ended, then a bloody, slashed throat. Then Bruce’s wide-eyed, slack-jawed face.

“No…”

There was someone standing behind the body. A trench coat, a hand with a dripping knife, a face full of bandages.

Tommy Elliot.

His grin peeked through his bandages, his manic eyes gleaming as Dick took an involuntary, fearful step back.

“Oops.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *cue horror movie style chase scene immediately after this*


	11. Struggling - Tim and Damian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> God, it was the worst thing he’d ever heard.

Tim’s had a lot of bad days. A lot of terrible days.

This one might be the worst.

Or at least one of them. He wanted to cry. He wanted to _scream_. Right now, he could do neither. Not as he sat in a supply closet, legs and arms wrapped around Damian like an octopus, with a hand over his mouth.

They were stuck in here. There was no other exit but through the main room, and that was currently occupied by the criminals they’d come into this building to defeat, and Nightwing, who was screaming in pain.

It was Dick who had all but thrown them into this closet. Told them to sit there until he found a way out of this maze of a building. Their enemy was turning out to be tougher than the three could handle, and higher in numbers than the two they originally thought there were.

Dick was only halfway across that large room when he was ambushed by seven people, each with a different weapon and skill. They’d beaten him into the floor. Stabbed and poked and maimed with all their weapons. Laughed as they did it.

And Tim and Damian could do nothing.

Damian, of course, instantly tried to run out of the closet to help him, and Tim was lucky to catch his cape when he did. He’d peeked out of the room after that just as Dick glanced over towards them, and subtly shook his head.

_Don’t help me._

But Damian wasn’t one to take no for an answer. And frankly, Tim agreed with him. Tim also wanted to run out there and help their big brother.

But Dick had given them an order. Dick was bigger than them and barely surviving, so what would those weapons do to them, a tiny kid and a lanky teenager?

So against his own better judgment, he held Damian back. Took his hisses and jabs and punches and even one bite, as he wrangled the kid into his arms, and held him as tight as he possibly could.

Both to keep him safe, and to be Tim’s anchor.

Damian, bless him, never stopped wiggling. Never stopped pushing at Tim’s arms. Anything to try and go help Dick, anything to save him.

And maybe it was a distraction for himself, because Dick’s sounds were terrible. He had tried to be brave, tried to stay quiet, but that just egged their enemies on. Made them hit him harder, stab him deeper, hurt him worse. So eventually, it was just automatic, his screams. His cries.

God, it was the worst thing Tim had ever heard.

“Drake.” Damian breathed desperately against Tim’s hand. Begged, pleaded, as he dug his nails into Tim’s gauntlet in an attempt to pull him away. “Drake, please. We can’t…we can’t just _leave_ him.”

Tim felt the tears in his eyes, so ducked his face against Damian’s throat to hide them. Held him that much tighter. Tried to ignore the noises from yards away. Tried to pray for Dick to make it.

“I’ve called Batman.” He whispered. “He’s coming.”

“Not fast enough.” Damian snapped. Dick let out a scream then, and Damian flinched. “He won’t survive.”

“You got the same order I did.” Tim murmured, hating himself. The thugs laughed at something. “We…we can’t.”

“He’s going to die.” Damian’s voice was trembling. “He’s going to _die_.”

“Batman’s coming.” Tim squeezed him again. “He’s _coming_.”

There was the distinct sound of something – blood? – splashing, of Dick shrieking louder in pain.

Then, there was nothing. Not even laughter from their enemies.

And that finally made Damian stop. Made him slump back against Tim’s chest, and cover his face with his hands.

Ten seconds later, Tim heard the distant sound of a window breaking, of a grapple being shot. Batman’s arrival.

Tim didn’t let go of Damian.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> apparently whumptober to me means Bruce always shows up like seconds too late. Or does he?????


	12. Broken Down/Broken Bones/Broken Trust - Jason and Dick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason just wished he knew what he did wrong

Dick didn’t expect to see Jason on the front steps of the manor as soon as he pulled his bike into the driveway. Jason made a point not to come here often, and normally not outside of ‘work’ stuff. Stuff that didn’t involve the house, only the cave below.

He also didn’t expect to see blood dripping off Jason’s knuckles either, his whole hand a violent, fat purple, bruises on his face and a split lip to match.

“Jay?” He called as he slowed his bike. Jason glanced up and frowned, kicking one of the beer bottles Dick just now noticed at his feet. “What happened?”

“What do you care?” Jason spit.

“Well. I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t care.” Dick countered, hitting his bike’s kickstand and dismounting. He pursed his lips as he approached Jason, his injuries were much worse, the closer he got. “Is Alfie getting his med kit?”

Jason shook his head. “He doesn’t know I’m here. I don’t want him to.”

Carefully Dick knelt on the step in front of Jason, took Jason’s swollen hand in his, and watched Jason wince slightly in pain.

“What happened?”

Jason sniffed and looked away. In the dying light of the day, Dick saw the reflection of tear tracks down Jason’s face.

“Who did this?” Dick tried instead. “I mean, Christ – Jay, your hand is broken in at least four places that I can feel.”

“…Bruce.” Jason whispered. “We…got into it again.”

_Ah._

“I just-!” Jason’s voice immediately caught. He dropped the bottle in his hands, and ducked his face against his knee. “I don’t know what he wants from me!”

Dick waited silently, glancing at Jason’s split lip. He could feel anger and frustration growing in his own chest.

_Fucking Bruce._

“It was an undercover gig, on his orders.” Jason began. “I worked myself up to being the defacto leader of this little group, fed him the info he wanted, and even led those fuckers into the trap he set.” He tried to ball his hand into a fist, but his bent fingers only twitched in response. “The guys were all scared shitless. We really could have stood there and waited for the cops. Just tied them up and waited, whatever. Easy fucking peasy.”

“But…that didn’t happen?”

“He suddenly wanted to prove a point. I don’t know, did he and Damian fight or something? He came into it pissed.” Jason sat up and sighed. “And next thing I knew he was trying to beat me into the ground to make an example to the others.”

Dick frowned. “He did what?”

“He wasn’t pulling his punches either, Dick.” Jason whispered. “I…I don’t know what I did wrong.”

Suddenly those tears were back, and Jason was sobbing.

“I…I did my best, man.” He wailed. “I did exactly what he said. I got him all the evidence he wanted. I didn’t kill anyone! I didn’t even fucking _shoot_ anyone!” He ran his arm across his eyes. “I…I don’t know what he wanted from me. I don’t know what I did _wrong_.”

“Nothing, it sounds like. Honestly.” Dick promised, putting a hand on Jason’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “…If he did all this…why’d you come back to his house?”

“Because I’m done. I’m done with _him_. I’m done with…with _trying_.” Jason closed his eyes. “I just came by to grab a few things that were mine. A couple books. A picture or two. Then I was going to hit the road.”

“For how long?”

Jason shrugged. “Forever, if possible.”

Dick’s heart stuttered.

“I’m just…I don’t know, Dick. I’m done. I can’t deal with him anymore.” Jason sniffed. “I don’t _want_ to deal with him anymore.”

“Good.” Jason glanced at Dick at the word. “I don’t want you to deal with him anymore either.” He swallowed the lump in his throat. “He shouldn’t have done this to you.”

“…I just wish I knew what I did wrong.”

“ _Nothing_.” Dick promised. They sat in silence for a moment, before Dick sighed and stood. “Come on.”

“No, don’t worry about it.” Jason mumbled, trying to wave him off with his broken hand. “I can get my own stuff.”

“What? Oh. No.” Dick smiled. “I was just going to fix up your hand and get you an ice pack, then take you back to my place.”

Jason looked up at him in confusion.

“You’re right, and I agree. Bruce is a piece of shit for what he did to you, and doesn’t deserve having you around. I honestly don’t want to see him either. I might punch him in his goddamn face for what he did.” Dick held out his hand. “But that doesn’t mean you have to be alone right now either.”

Jason stared at his hand for a second, then scoffed and stood on his own. Dick laughed at him, and before Jason could blink, Dick leaned forward and kissed his forehead, then wrapped a protective arm around his shoulders.

“Come on, Lil Wing.” He hummed. Jason stepped off with him, and Dick felt him subtly lean into his side. “Let’s go get you fixed up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dick does goopy big brother things for like three days straight and Jason secretly revels in every second.


	13. Oxygen Mask - Dick and Tim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He was not going to leave Damian’s side, not ever

Tim heard Dick stop in the doorway. Heard him sigh.

“Tim.”

“No.” Tim responded immediately, not looking at him. If he looked at him he might punch him. They’ve already had this fight four times today.

“You need to eat.” Dick tried. “You need to _rest_.”

“No I _don’t_.” Tim returned coolly, letting his hand curl into a fist. “And even if I did, I don’t _want_ to.”

“He wouldn’t want you to-”

“You don’t know what he would want.” Tim snapped. The machine beeped and he glanced up. The oxygen levels were fluctuating again.

He could practically hear Dick grind his teeth. “I’d almost like to argue that I know better than _anyone_ else in this damn house what Damian would want.”

Tim stood suddenly, spinning around. “Did you know he wanted to save me?”

Dick’s face remained neutral. “Yes.”

“Did you know he wanted to save me so bad that he went out on his own?”

“…No.” Dick answered. “We were making a plan. We didn’t know he’d snuck out.”

“He refused to leave, even for his own life, until I was _safe_.” Tim spat. “So I’m not leaving him until he’s _better_.”

“And what if he never is?” Dick whispered bitterly. “What if he _dies_?”

Tim pressed his lips together, turned around to look at the cot he stood next to. Damian barely took any space, was far too small for a bed so big. He was covered in wires and stabilizing devices. But worst of all, he was wearing an oxygen mask.

Not a cannula. A full mask. Because he’d been thrown off a warehouse, bounced off the one next door, and dropped into the freezing waters of the harbor. His ribs were shattered, every single one, and he had the onset of hypothermia. His lungs didn’t stand a chance.

They had to call Aquaman and Superman in to help, to fish his unconscious body out of the water.

“…That’s not like you, to be so pessimistic.” Tim murmured, sitting back down.

“Well my one brother is dying and the other is refusing to take care of himself.” Dick countered sharply. “Why would I be sunshine and fucking rainbows, Tim?”

Tim crossed his arms. “You blame me for this.”

“No, I…” Dick started, but sighed immediately, cutting himself off. Suddenly he was stomping around the cot, plopping into the seat stationed there, previously occupied by Bruce. “I don’t blame you, Tim.”

“You should.”

“Don’t start.” Dick scolded. “Don’t start this weird…contrarian thing.” He flopped his hands onto the bed, rested them on Damian’s thigh. The boy didn’t stir. “This isn’t your fault. And even if it was, that doesn’t mean I don’t want you to eat or sleep or take care of yourself.” He paused, lifted his eyes to meet Tim’s. “You really think Damian went to all that trouble to save you, just so you could starve yourself to death after?”

Tim looked away instantly, though the sight of Damian’s pale face was not a better sight. “…I can’t leave him, Dick. Not after what he did for me.” He reached out, and carefully scooped Damian’s hand into his own. “…What if he wakes up alone?”

“He won’t.” Dick promised. “And if it’s not you sitting here, I don’t think he’ll suddenly think you’re ungrateful.”

Tim closed his eyes, leaned his forehead down onto Damian’s hand. It didn’t so much as twitch.

“I can’t leave him. I _can’t_ , I…” He drifted off to compose himself. To suck the moisture appearing in his eyes back into his stupid head. “…I’m sorry I almost got your kid killed.”

“Hey, don’t forget.” Suddenly Dick’s hand was in his hair, ruffling it. Tim peeked up at him. “You’re my kid too.”

Tim smiled, but it was sad.

“And I know what else you’re thinking.” Dick smirked. “That he only came after you to make me happy. Only saved you for _me_.”

“Well…” Tim shrugged.

“He didn’t.” Dick swore. “I know it might still be hard to believe, but this kid loves you so much, Tim. He still sucks at showing it, but I know he does.”

“That almost makes it worse.” Tim whispered. “Especially if he never wakes up, like you just said.”

Dick frowned too. “We just gotta believe in him, Timmy. Believe in him as much as he believes in you and me. In Bruce.”

And again, Tim repeated: “…I won’t leave him.”

“Then we’re going to have a problem.” Dick let himself smile again. “Because I’m not going to stop bugging you until you take care of yourself.”

“Then we’re at a stalemate.” Tim decided.

“…Can we negotiate, then?” Dick asked.

Tim thought about it. “I’m open to offers.”

“You go shower and change your clothes. Take however long or short you want.” Dick listed. “And when you come back, I’ll have a bed for you to sleep in, your favorite blankets and at least two meals worth of questionably nutritious food that can be nuked in the Bat-Microwave that is in sight of this area.”

Tim snorted and hid his face in Damian’s hand again. “You’re never going to let this drop, even if I like…smack you, will you?”

“Honestly, at this point it’s either you agree to that, or I shove a sedative in your neck and give you a sponge bath and feeding tube.” Dick smiled sweetly. “So I implore you to take the option that makes me look like I’m kind of a nice guy.”

Tim waited a moment, then took a deep inhale, sitting back in his chair. (He kept Damian’s hand in his, though.) “I take really fast showers.”

“How fast?”

“Could be five minutes. Could be less.”

“What, you think I can’t do what I said I would in five minutes?” Dick sat up straight. “Are you _challenging_ me, Tim?”

Tim grinned. “Winner gets to nap with Damian’s cat next time he comes by to visit his child?”

Dick laughed as Tim jumped from his chair, all but running towards the showers. He looked down to Damian, and gently ran his fingers through his hair.

“You’re on, little bro.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dick was not going to be in this at all, oops. Damian wakes up to both his brothers sleeping with his cat, and it’s Cassandra at his bedside.


	14. Branding - Jon and Conner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He was nothing. He was a freak. He was a monster. He just wanted to go home.

The man wouldn’t look at him, too busy heating up his metal stake.

“You’re a freak.” He hissed for the fiftieth time. Jon pulled against his bonds. He looked across the room, to where Damian lay unconscious, a puddle of blood forming under his head. The man had hit him, thrown him across the room when he’d tried to free Jon. “And the world needs to know it.”

“J-just let me go!” Jon shouted again, through his frustrated tears. “Please, just let me and my friend go. We’ll go quietly. We won’t even tell anyone what happened today.”

“No.” The man turned towards him, the bent and stylized end of his stake glowed a bright orange. Jon flinched back instantly. “The world needs to know what you are.”

“I’m nothing!” Jon screamed. “I was just going for pizza with my best friend after school!”

“I know you’re not.” The man wheezed stepping forward. “I know what you _really_ are, boy.”

Jon pushed himself back as the man loomed over him. Kept pushing himself back until he hit a wall and could go no further. He glanced back to Damian. The blood puddle was only getting bigger.

“You’re a _freak_. You’re an _alien_.” The man growled. “You invaded our Earth, and think we should fucking worship you. You’re trying to take the place of humans.” Spittle flew from his lips. “Replace _me_.”

“I’m not.” Jon promised. Begged. “I’m not trying to do anything. I…” He balled his hands into fists. Where was his dad? Where was Batman?

…He just wanted his mom.

“I just want to go home.” He sobbed. “Please, just let me take my friend home.”

The man glared, like Jon had personally slighted him. Tapped his fingers along the metal rod’s shaft.

“No.”

He lifted the hot iron and stabbed it downwards, right towards Jon’s chest. And Jon could do nothing. The chains around his wrists prevented him from covering himself, and his powers were short-circuiting.

He wasn’t lying to the man. He really was nothing, in this moment.

So he did all he could, he slammed his eyes closed and waited for the burn. For the searing pain that he just hoped he could live through.

But instead, the blow never came. In fact, as soon as he closed his eyes, he heard the iron hit something else. _Someone_ else.

Heard that someone else grunt in pain.

“Don’t.” He heard someone growl. Opened his eyes and gasped.

Conner. His brother Conner was in front of him.

His tears fell faster. His brother Conner came for him.

“Don’t you fucking dare touch that kid.” Conner demanded. Jon could hear the sizzle of heat vision, and watched in awe as Conner grabbed the iron rod and bent it in half. Ripped it from the man’s hand and smacked the still-fiery end against his face.

The man screamed as he collapsed, but Conner paid him no mind. He clutched at his own chest as he turned to Jon, and carefully undid his binds with the other hand.

“Get Damian.” Conner wheezed. “I’ll watch your back.”

Jon glanced at Conner’s chest. The branding had gone through his shirt, and even behind the sprawl of his fingers, Jon could read the bleeding, red letters easily.

 _Monster_.

Jon looked up at Conner’s face, still contorted in pain.

“That was meant for me.” He whispered.

Conner smirked. “And I’m glad it didn’t get you.” He helped Jon to his feet and pushed him towards Damian. “Now go get him.”

Jon nodded, all but running over to Damian. He swallowed the lump in his throat as he gathered Damian into his arms, felt the blood from his head seep through his fingers.

His friend got hurt because of him. His brother got hurt because of him too.

As he ran back to Conner’s side, back into the safety of his arms, as Conner led him out of the building, already calling someone, probably their dad, for help, for medical attention for Damian, Jon couldn’t help but think:

The man was right. He _was_ a monster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tim, Clark and Bruce go beat up that nameless man that night. Jon just cries a lot while Conner tucks him into bed and kisses his forehead.


	15. Magical Healing - Jon and Damian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ra’s killed Jon. Right?

“Jon, _look out!_ ” Damian shrieked, even though he knew it was futile, knew it was too late. His grandfather was already behind him, already plunging his sword towards his spine. The sound of the metal slicing through his friend’s skin echoed in his ears. _“Jon!”_

Ra’s stabbed him through, the hilt tight against the flesh of Jon’s back, the blade sticking out his chest like a horn.

Jon only made a little gasp of surprise.

But Ra’s didn’t relish in his victory, immediately turned to Damian, pulling out another, smaller knife.

“You cannot defeat me, Damian.” Ra’s smiled. “You should know that.”

Damian balled his hands into fists as he stared up at him. In fury, in fear, in sorrow. Jon was gone. His motherfucking grandfather just _killed his best friend._

For every step Ra’s took towards him, Damian stepped back, trying to figure out a plan. Could he run? Could he fight back?

But this far in the battle, there were very little options. He’d wasted all his weapons on the assassins, that’s why Jon was left open to an attack, he’d been protecting Damian while he searched for more tools.

And more than surviving…god, what would he tell Superman? Lois? What would he tell his own father?

He was a failure. He just let Jon get killed, by a cheap shot from his grandfather, no less.

Maybe he should let his grandfather just end him too. Maybe he could confuse the gods, and they’d take his soul instead of Jon’s, so Jon could return to the life he deserved.

Maybe he should just-

“Oh.” Ra’s froze as he loomed over Damian. He wasn’t the one who spoke. Ra’s blinked and both he and Damian turned back towards the room. “Uh…ow.”

Jon was still standing.

Blood was pouring from his chest, and he was just lazily running his fingers through it, like he was mesmerized by the liquid. Then, without preamble, he reached behind himself until his fingers found the sword’s hilt, and slowly began to pull it back out of his torso.

As the blade slipped out, Jon let out a quick, hearty giggle. “Sorry. That tickled a little bit.” Damian saw Ra’s’ jaw drop as the wound in Jon’s chest quickly began to close, the waterfall of blood disappearing as quickly as it appeared. Suddenly Jon flipped the sword in his hand like he knew how to use it, and held it at the ready, pointed straight at Ra’s. His eyes gleamed mischievously. “Anyway. Where were we?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is probably the shortest of the bunch so far but oh bOY have I been overwhelmed the past few days and got hella behind!!!


	16. Hallucinations - Dick and Damian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damian was a ghost, he said.

This…they didn’t know what to do with this.

An emergency alert had gone across the comms. in the middle of an otherwise dead patrol, and Robin and Black Bat reported not long later that they found Nightwing unconscious in a gassed warehouse.

As they took him home, Batman tested the canisters left on site, concluded that it was just a new strand of fear gas, and set off for Crane. And they’d dealt with fear gas before. They weren’t worried. They gave Dick an antidote and let him sleep.

But when he woke, he instantly started sobbing.

“Dick?” Tim asked, rushing to his side, Damian close behind him. “Dick, it’s alright. Is the gas still in your system?”

Dick shook his head, but he was sobbing so hard, they could barely understand him. It took the help of everyone to figure out what he was saying. Duke and Steph took notes, Cassandra held Dick’s hand, and Tim asked the questions. But strangely, whenever Damian tried to comfort his eldest brother, Dick flinched away from him. Wouldn’t _look_ at him.

After twenty minutes of trying, it ended up being Jason who figured it out.

“He thinks Damian’s dead.” He said simply.

Everyone froze then, looking between the sobbing man and the youngest of them. Duke looked back at his notes.

“He keeps saying that word that we thought started with a G.” He hummed. Steph and Cass looked over his shoulder.

Suddenly Cass pointed at Duke’s paper. “‘Damian is dead, his ghost is right there.’”

Dick, still hiding his face behind his hands, nodded almost violently.

A side effect of the gas attack, they all surmised. Not from Crane like they originally thought, and not a new strand of fear gas.

Because, eventually, Dick calmed down. Dick was able to function, able to speak. His vitals came back clean.

But he still said Damian was a ghost. Still believed Damian was dead, no matter what anyone – Damian included – said.

“There’s nothing we can do.” Zatanna had said when they took him to the Watchtower for testing, Damian tight to his side the whole time. “But it doesn’t appear to be permanent either. So I guess we just…have to wait it out.”

So they did. Dick stayed in the manor in the meantime, but almost constantly secluded himself from everyone. Stuck in his perceived grief, and refused to talk about it. Refused to let anyone help.

Anyone…but Damian.

“I don’t get you.” Damian pouted one day, as they sat in the library. Damian was curled up on the couch reading. Dick was standing at the window, as he tended to these days, staring at the Wayne family graveyard.

“What do you mean?” Dick asked, a hint of cheerfulness in his voice.

Damian snapped his book closed, and flopped over the arm of the chair.

“You claim I’m dead. You claim I’m a _ghost_. But I’m the only one you’ll willingly hang out with.” He sighed. “It doesn’t make any sense. Even if I _were_ dead, and even if I _were_ a ghost, why would you stick around with me? Wouldn’t you want to be with other people? Other _living_ people? Wouldn’t you want to continue living _your_ life?”

Dick snorted a laugh. “I always loved your stubbornness.” He sighed. Damian rolled his eyes. It was a typical response to when Damian reminded him that he wasn’t, in fact, dead. Dick would always counter in the past tense. “And what’s the point of living my life if you’re not in it?”

Damian let his gaze drop, and Dick laughed again as he turned away from the window, and came over to the couch. He fell next to Damian, flopping his arm across the back of the couch, looking at Damian wistfully.

“How many times do I have to tell you, kiddo?” Dick hummed. “You _were_ my whole life.”

Damian crossed his arms. “Shut up.”

“And as for why I don’t want to go be with the family?” Dick asked. He frowned then. Seemed to almost reach out, like he was going to run his fingers through Damian’s hair, but stopped like he couldn’t. “Because for some reason, they don’t see your loss as a big deal. Like losing you didn’t _matter_.”

“It’s because _I’m not dead_.” Damian snapped. “And they’re the only ones who seem to _notice_.”

Dick smiled. “You’re funny.”

Damian scoffed, but allowed himself to fall into Dick’s space. Damian pushed his head against Dick’s chest, but it was almost like Dick didn’t notice the very real weight against his ribs. Dick stared down at him, but didn’t embrace him. Didn’t touch him. Just let out a sad, heavy sigh. “And you’re an idiot.”

“Yeah, Yeah. Love you too.” Dick dropped his head onto his own arm and closed his eyes. “Forever and ever.”

So for days, for _weeks_ , Dick moped around the house, almost like a ghost himself, with Damian trailing him. The gas’s effects weren’t wearing off, and slowly, reluctantly, the family was realizing they might just have to get used to this sad new normal.

And as quickly as they came, the effects disappeared.

They were sitting in the parlor, Jason, Cassandra and Damian. Dick had been with them, but had stepped away to grab a cup of coffee. They all heard him returning, heard him approaching, and Damian sighed in preparation. Trying to convince someone you loved you weren’t dead was exhausting.

But suddenly, they heard the sound of a mug crashing to the ground.

They all looked up to find Dick standing in the doorway, eyes wide in shock. Hot coffee seeped into his socks, but he didn’t seem to notice. Without a word, Dick all but ran forward, dragging Damian into his arms, and holding him as tight as he could.

Cassandra smiled as silent tears ran down Dick’s face. Jason just snorted and turned back to his magazine. “We told you so.”

Damian returned the embrace himself. “See? I’m not dead. I was never dead.” He squeezed Dick’s neck. “I never left you.”

Dick just let out a watery laugh and held the back of Damian’s head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is dumb sorry


	17. Wrongfully Accused - Batfamily

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce says Damian killed a man

“I didn’t do it!” Damian screamed for what seemed like the millionth time. Bruce ignored the pain in his voice. Didn’t glance up as he heard the arrival of the others.

“There’s evidence, Damian.” Bruce snapped. “There is evidence at the scene that you _killed that man_.”

“I didn’t.” Damian pleaded, ignoring the gaze of his siblings and allies that he now felt on his back. “I didn’t even know he was _there_. I was following the robber on the other side of the building!”

Bruce pulled up a security camera tape, showing Damian entering the building. “That window is two rooms away from where the body was. You were the only one who entered.”

“I didn’t go in the direction of that room!” Damian shouted. “The thief I was following had gone in on the other side, I was there to cut him off!”

“No one else entered.” Bruce repeated. “No one else left. There was you and a dead body.”

“I didn’t.” Damian whispered. “I can’t explain that and I’m sorry, but I _didn’t_.”

Bruce opened his mouth to counter him, but was surprised to be interrupted.

By Tim, no less.

“Why don’t you believe him?” Tim asked sharply. Bruce looked up to see him standing between Dick and Stephanie.

“Evidence, Tim.” Bruce sighed, turning his gaze back to Damian. There were tears on his face now, that he was angrily trying to wipe away. “You know we follow the evidence.”

“Sure.” Tim shrugged. But then he surprised Bruce again. “But I also know Damian.”

Damian turned towards him in shock, too. Dick was already silently enraged, crossing his arms. Stephanie was frowning. It was Cassandra who spoke next. “We do not kill. _He_ does not kill.”

“There’s evidence.”

“One fucking security camera. Big whoop.” Jason snapped. “I know that building, and there’s at least seven more cameras outside. Why aren’t you checking those?”

“They were offline.” Bruce countered.

“So why aren’t you checking why they were offline?” Stephanie added. “What about evidence on the body? What was the body’s temp? What was in the room?”

“The body’s temperature was consistent to when Damian would have been in the building.”

“Okay.” Duke hummed awkwardly. “Any of his weapons there? Did the death match the style Damian was taught by the League?”

“No.” Bruce admitted. “But he was stabbed.”

“And?” Tim asked. “I could stab you, too, and that isn’t my go-to method.”

“Ever think maybe whoever did kill him saw Robin enter and tried to frame him?” Duke asked. “Were any of Damian’s weapons at the scene?”

“I…I have all my weapons on me. I didn’t use any, not even on the thief when I caught him.” Damian murmured. He instantly ripped his belt off, held it out like a holy offering. “You can take inventory if you want.”

“…One fucking security camera, are you goddamn kidding me?” Jason scoffed as Cassandra came forward. She glared at Bruce for a moment before silently pulling the belt from Damian’s grip and dropping it to the floor. She gently took Damian’s hand, and led him back to his siblings. “You’re ready to convict and execute him based on that?”

“I’m following the evidence.” Bruce repeated. “I’m following what’s there.”

He watched as Cassandra stopped in front of Dick, who quickly gathered Damian up in his arms, with no complaint from the youngest. Stephanie leaned over to rub her hand along Damian’s back, nodding at whatever Damian seemed to be quietly mumbling.

“We’re taking him upstairs.” Tim scolded. “Don’t bother coming up until you find who actually killed that man, and have a good apology ready.”

One by one, each of his allies and children turned and walked away, heading towards the stairs that led to the manor, until only Dick holding the now-openly sobbing child was left.

He stared blankly at Bruce for a few seconds, before shaking his head in disappointment and turning away.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Bruce?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit bad-dad and bad-detective bruce, whoopsie. He of course eventually finds the real killer, but the fam probably don’t let him near kiddo for like. a week at least


	18. Panic Attacks (/Phobias) - Bruce, Jason and Damian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The cave was empty. The cave should not have been empty.

The manor was empty.

And that was fine, that just meant everyone was down stairs. _Down_ -downstairs. Working hard, bettering themselves, doing what needed to be done to protect the innocent people of the world around them.

But when he went downstairs, the cave was empty too.

His heart immediately started to pound. _Slow down_ , he told himself. It’s still okay. It’s still fine.

Dick is in Bludhaven. Cassandra is with Stephanie at Barbara’s. Duke went to visit his parents at the facility and other family. Tim took a night off and is with his Titan friends.

It’s fine.

But his heart kept beating faster, his breaths kept coming quicker.

Because Damian was here. Damian was in the house earlier, and now the house is empty, so the only other place he could be was in the cave, but he’s not here either.

Because Bruce could see Jason’s bike in the parking bay, and he’s not here either. He’s not at the computer, he’s not at the medical area, and there was no shower running.

His fingers tingled at his sides, and he flexed them as he kept looking, kept walking through the same space over and over.

Instantly, his mind was supplying the worst. Damian and Jason are missing, what do they have in common besides himself? Talia, they have Talia in common. Did Talia come here? Did Talia take them?

God, did Talia _hurt_ them?

His breath wouldn’t slow down, and it was making him hot. Making him sweat. His gut was screaming, telling him something had to be wrong. Something was so terribly wrong.

Maybe Ra’s. Ra’s always had it out for Damian, had it out for any of Talia’s ‘side projects.’ Did he take them? Did he hurt them? Did he come for Damian and Jason protected him? Did he come for Jason and took Damian out of spite?

Tommy Elliot. Maybe he came in here and killed them. Threw their bodies into the water duct down the way.

He wiped at his forehead, tried to swallow the lump in his throat. Tried to _breathe normally_ but his lungs and heart just wouldn’t _work_.

Call the family, that’s what he needed to do. Call Dick at least, he was close with Damian, he kept closer tabs on Jason. Maybe they told him something, maybe he missed something in Damian’s schedule, but Dick would know. Dick would have a better idea than hi-

There was a light chuff behind him.

Bruce whirled around, fists ready.

But it was just Titus.

Titus with his head cocked to the side in curiosity and a big grin. Titus with his wagging tail.

He gave a gentle woof and turned, trotting away, with the expectation that Bruce followed him.

So he did.

Bruce kept a hand to his chest, begging his heart to slow down, his breathing to calm, as he followed the dog away from the main area of the cave, down into a darker spot, more secluded. Darker, quieter.

But in the darkness, he saw a faint light.

It got brighter as he and the dog approached it, and he realized quickly it was a lantern.

And behind the lantern were Jason and Damian.

(And Damian’s cat.)

Jason was curled in on himself. Knees to his chest, hands tangled in his own hair. As they approached, Bruce saw he was trembling, and his shoulders were heaving with tears. Damian sat beside him, watching him closely, muttering softly, a hand covering Jason’s tightly coiled fist.

The cat sat on Jason’s feet, and rubbed his face along Jason’s shins every so often.

Titus gave a light woof again and Damian looked up.

“Father.” He whispered. He squeezed Jason’s hand before releasing it to stand and move towards Bruce. Bruce couldn’t help but grab Damian’s shoulders as soon as he was close enough. Damian seemed confused by the gesture, confused by the trembling in Bruce’s own hands, but didn’t say anything about it. “Todd was hit with a type of fear gas. It exasperated his claustrophobia to an almost violent extreme, and even the cave proper seemed to be triggering him, so I brought him to a more open place.”

Bruce was nodding slightly, watching as Jason blindly reached out the hand that Damian had been holding until he felt Alfred’s fur under his fingers.

“G-good.” Bruce exhaled. Damian furrowed his brows at him. “Good job, son.” He swallowed the lump in his throat, and felt relief wash through his body as his lungs allowed him to take a deep, long breath. “Need any more help?”

“It would be appreciated.” Damian nodded, turning and returning to Jason, Bruce tight on his heels.

Bruce smiled softly, let out a long exhale, and followed his youngest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this isn’t a great descriptor of how panic attacks go. Literally just had one last week (or an anxiety attack, not 100% sure but irrelevant) but I feel like I can’t quite describe it real well on paper. sorry. This prompt and characters were suggested by patreon Leydy! Phobia is in parentheses because that’s what I was going to write until I got the suggestion, but I still put part of that original idea in there with Jason soooooo~


	19. Grief/Mourning Loved One/Survivor's Guilt - Cass and Damian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It should have been him. They should still be here.

She found Bruce in his study, standing solemnly out the rainy window. She joined him silently, curious as to what he was staring at so seriously.

It was Damian, sitting in the family graveyard. Knees curled to his chest, staring at the newest edition to the cemetery. He wasn’t wearing a coat, and his hair was plastered to his forehead.

Cassandra glanced sadly up at Bruce, but his face gave nothing away. After a moment, he sighed, and turned away. She assumed he was going to get his child, his youngest who was going through so much.

Instead, he went and sat at his desk, and started reading paperwork.

She frowned and felt her hand ball into a fist. Bruce didn’t look at her.

…Fine, then.

She stomped by him as loud as she could towards the hallway, and once she left the room, broke into a run towards the front door.

She forewent her own shoes, but grabbed the old umbrella leaned into the corner. She popped it was she stepped outside, and paused when she heard thunder in the distance.

She sighed and walked down the front steps towards the cemetery.

Damian didn’t move as she approached, nor as she sat in the mud next to him. She openly stared at him, but frowned when she couldn’t tell if he was crying or if it was the rain pouring down his face.

“It’s my fault.”

Cassandra looked at him, letting his words practically echo in her head. She glanced to the grave in front of them – Alfred’s grave.

“No.” She shook her head. “It’s not.”

“It is.” Damian insisted. “I should have told Bane to take me. Kill me instead. Then he’d still be here. Then the family would still be okay.”

Cassandra shook her head again, reached out for his hand. “But then you wouldn’t be here.”

“And I shouldn’t be.” Damian answered immediately. “I _shouldn’t_ be here. _He_ should be.”

“Damian-”

“He and Grayson.” Damian continued quietly. Cassandra’s shoulders slumped sadly. “They both deserve to be here more than me.”

Cassandra shook her head for a third time. “No.”

“The family would be so much better off.” Damian continued. But there was no emotion in his voice. Just cold logic. “Pennyworth would be here. Grayson _could_ be here. I could have done something. If I’d been there-”

Silently, she leaned the umbrella against her shoulder and took Damian’s face in her hands. She turned his head to look at her and fiercely whispered: _“No.”_

Damian stared at her in surprise, and then instantly there was no question. It _was_ tears cascading down cheeks.

“I miss them.” He whispered. “I miss them so much it _hurts_.”

She gave him a small smile. “I know.”

“I don’t know what to do.” Damian continued. “I…I don’t know what to do without them.”

She ran her thumb against his skin, then carefully pulled him into her chest.

“You stay with me.” She murmured, trapping him in her arms. “You keep living.”

“I don’t want to.” Damian sobbed. “I don’t want to, not without them.”

“You. Keep. Living.” She repeated, running her hand over his head. He slowly returned the embrace, hid his face against her neck. “You don’t make us…lose you too.”

“It’s my fault.” He continued. “It’s my-”

“ _Shush_.” She demanded, kissing at his hair. “Stop right now.”

Damian whimpered.

“I love you.” She said simply. “I _need_ you. Still. Forever.”

“You shouldn’t.” Damian decided. “I’m _useless_. I couldn’t even protect Pennyworth in our own home.”

Cassandra shook her head for what felt like the millionth time. “I love you.” She repeated. “I love you. I. Love. You.”

She felt Damian close his eyes, felt him shiver in the cold rain.

“I love you. I need you. Always.” She said one last time. “Now, come. You need to be inside.”

Damian didn’t say anything, and she took that as an agreement. So she carefully angled her umbrella on her shoulder, and helped Damian to his feet, keeping him close against her side.

“Cocoa?” She asked. “Blankets?”

Damian looked up at her with blank eyes.

She smiled. “Yes. Lots of blankets for little baby.”

Damian frowned and wiped at his eyes. Cassandra just smirked, and held her little brother closer as she could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cass doesn’t speak to Bruce for like a week. She also tells Tim later she’s kidnapping Damian and Tim just gives her a thumbs up.


	20. Lost - Jon and Damian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damian was wrong on this one, Jon knew it

“This…isn’t great.” Jon mumbled, staring up at the stars. The stars that weren’t theirs, the stars that didn’t belong to their universe.

“No, it isn’t.” Damian sighed, rolling away. Jon saw him grab at his side, an injury from the battle that landed them in the teleporter to this planet. “Not the most ideal situation.”

“…How long do you think we’ll be stuck here?” Jon asked quietly.

“I don’t know.” Damian admitted. “Could be forever.”

“Oh.” Jon breathed. “So, like…I could never see my mom and dad ever again?”

“Potentially.” Damian shrugged. “But a conversation for morning. Get some sleep, Jon.”

Jon nodded, even though he knew Damian didn’t see it. He waited another moment, stared up at the blue-green night sky, then hummed, “Do you think they’ve noticed we’re gone yet?”

“You? Yes.”

Jon blinked, then looked over. “What does that mean?”

“What does _what_ mean?”

“You…” Jon frowned. “People would notice you’re gone, Damian. _Will_ notice.”

Damian scoffed, but didn’t roll back towards him. “Yeah, like who?”

“Me. You know, if I wasn’t already here.” Jon listed. “Your dad.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Your brother. Tim.”

“He’d notice only to be thrilled I’m out of his hair.”

“The Red Hood.”

“He’d think it a relief.”

“Mr. Pennyworth.”

“One less mouth to feed.”

“Your sister.”

Damian paused for that one. “…Maybe.”

“Mr. Grayson.” Jon tried. “He would notice.” He hesitated a moment. “He would be heartbroken, if you were missing. If you were gone forever.”

Damian didn’t answer that, not right away. Slowly, though, he rolled over, and stared at Jon.

“He shouldn’t be.”

“That’s not for you to decide.” Jon countered. “…People love you, Dames.”

Damian just stared tiredly at him.

“Your dad loves you.” Jon whispered. “ _I_ love you.”

Damian rolled his eyes.

“My mom even loves you. She thinks you’re funny.” Jon smiled. “And I know she’ll beat the crap out of our dads until they find us both. I promise.”

“She can’t beat the crap out of Batman.” Damian pouted. “No one can beat the crap out of Batman.”

“My mom can.” Jon smirked. “In fact, I bet she’s beating up your dad right now for not working faster to get a teleporter up.”

“Yeah, to get _you_ home.”

“No, to get us _both_ home.” Jon swore. “To get you back to your family who loves you.”

“Jon.” Damian sighed. “I’ve gone days without anyone noticing I’m not in the manor. Even if they ever notice I’m not in their solar system, it won’t be for a few days at least. Potentially a few _weeks_.”

Suddenly, there was a loud boom nearby, followed by a bright light through the trees. Both boys jumped to their feet, fists and weapons at the ready. They heard footsteps stomping on the branches, and loud, quick voices.

Then a group was bursting through the trees, led by one Red Hood.

“There you brats are.” Jason breathed, sounding almost relieved. “We’ve been looking for you two for _hours_.”

Damian couldn’t help but gape. “… _Todd_?!”

“What,” Jason grinned, leaning the very clearly alien gun against his shoulder. Koriand’r and an Amazonian woman appeared behind him. Kory gave the boys a quick wave. “I’m not allowed to save my kid brother and his nerdy friend from parallel universes from time to time?”

Damian blinked a few times, even as Jason hopped down to their level, slinging the gun onto his back. As he approached them, Jon looked at Damian with a smug smirk.

“…You were saying?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Relish in the ‘happy ending’ of this one because oh boy tomorrow’s is...not nice.


	21. Infection - Batbros

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damian didn’t mention he was infected.

Tim noticed it first.

“You bastard.” He hissed, stomping across the room towards Damian. They were in an abandoned diner, one cleared out by the military already. “You…you fucking piece of _shit_.”

“Tim…” Dick started with a sigh as he saw Damian flinch and back away. “Look, hate each other later, when we get the virus under control.”

Tim ignored him, stalking towards Damian until he cornered him against a wall. “Show them.”

“Fuck off.” Damian hissed, but there was a nervousness in his voice.

Tim let his hand curl into a fist. “Show. Them.”

“No.” Damian whispered.

“Tim, leave him alone.” Dick snapped. “We’re not going to get any rest if you two are…”

He trailed off as Tim grabbed Damian’s arm and yanked him forward. Jason got to his feet to pull them apart, but froze as Tim lifted the edge of Damian’s shirt.

It revealed a large, oozing lump. Purple veins crossed across greenish skin. Damian winced as Tim’s movement jostled his body.

“Damian…” Dick gasped, eyes going wide and almost instantly watery. He swallowed the lump in his throat as he turned away, running his fingers through his hair. “Fuck!”

“When.” Jason demanded.

Damian shook Tim off of him with a glare, then sighed. “Three hours ago. In the street fight.” Damian admitted. “I…I knew I was dead the second I noticed. But I was hoping I could hold out another day or two, be a distraction to anyone who might come after us to give you time to get away.”

“You…little fuck.” Tim sighed sourly. Sadly. “You could have infected us too!”

“You could have let us _help_ you.” Dick countered.

“Help how? There’s no cure to this.” Damian gestured to his side. “And…I didn’t want you to worry.”

“Well, what the fuck do you think we’re doing now?” Jason spat.

“And dying in battle protecting those I love is better than dying in fear.” Damian snapped right back. “I…was trying to be your last line of defense.”

“And it’s appreciated. I _guess_.” Jason sighed. He paused a second, didn’t look at Dick. Then closed his eyes and slowly reached for his holster. “…You know what we have to do now.”

Dick’s head whipped up, Tim’s eyes went wide and Damian merely nodded. “I know.”

“No. No… _fucking_ way, Jason.” Dick ordered, stomping across the diner and putting himself squarely in front of Damian. “We can fix this.”

“No we can’t, Dick.” Jason said quietly, pulling the gun into his grip. “You know we can’t.”

“You’re not…” Dick’s voice cracked. “You’re not _shooting_ him.”

Damian smirked. “He has before.”

“Shut up.” Dick spun around and stuck his finger in Damian’s face. “Shut your fucking mouth, Damian. Okay?”

“…Grayson.” Damian returned calmly.

“Shut it.” Dick repeated, spinning back around. He kept his finger pointed, at Jason now. “You’re not shooting anyone.”

“Dick.” Jason lowered his gaze. “You know I don’t want to do this. You _know_ that.” He closed his eyes again. “And I…I’m not.” A pause. “I’m not going to make you do it.”

“No one is doing anything.” Dick countered, voice trembling. “We’re going to fix this.”

“Grayson.” Damian repeated. “He’s right.”

“Don’t.” Dick spun back around. He crouched in front of Damian, grabbing his arms. “ _Don’t_ , okay? We’re going to figure it out. We’re going to get you help.”

“You can’t.” Damian said. “We all know this.” He turned his head towards Tim. “Don’t we, Drake?”

“No. No way.” Tim shook his head, stepping away. “You’re not getting me to _agree_ that you need to be shot.”

“So what, you both would rather I kill you instead?” Damian demanded, jerking himself out of Dick’s hands and stepping back. “Why do you think I’ve been keeping my distance from you three?!”

“Dick, just.” Jason paused. “You and Tim stay in here. I’ll…we’ll go out back.”

Dick jumped to his feet. “You’re not taking him ‘out back’ like he’s a fucking dog, Jason!”

“Then what do you want, Dick, for me to shoot him right in fucking front of you?!” Jason screamed back. “We don’t have a choice!”

“We do.” Dick whimpered. “We…we have to…”

Damian stepped up to Dick’s side. “We don’t, Grayson.”

Dick looked down at him, tears already dripping down his cheeks. Damian gave him a small smile and hugged him, hiding his face in Dick’s shirt. Dick fell back to his knees and held him back, but couldn’t hold him as tight as he wanted, not with the infection growing on his torso.

“Thank you.” Damian whispered. “For…everything.”

“…I love you.” Dick sobbed. “I love you so much, kiddo. I. Please don’t do this.”

“There isn’t another way. I can’t keep traveling with you, on the chance I infect you, now that you know and won’t keep your distance.” Damian explained. “And you can’t leave me behind, in case I drop dead and someone else finds me. I can’t allow myself to infect anyone else.” He squeezed Dick’s shoulders. “Kill me and burn the body.”

Dick just wailed.

“Promise.” Damian demanded. Dick couldn’t answer, so he looked to Tim. “ _Promise_ me.”

Tim’s lip trembled, and he angrily wiped away his own tears as he nodded.

“Good. Thank you.” He smiled. “Thank you for putting up with me, Timothy. Please take care of Grayson.”

Tim couldn’t look at him anymore. He nodded again, but turned away, covering his face with his hands.

“Good.” Damian sighed in relief, reluctantly pulling himself out of Dick’s arms. Dick tried to follow after him, but when Damian was out of his grasp, Dick could do nothing but double over himself, and hide his face against knees.

“Thank you.” Damian repeated, looking between Dick and Tim. Then to Jason as he approached him. “…Thank you.”

“…Don’t.” Jason whispered, a single tear of his own crawling down his face. “Don’t you fucking thank me.”

Damian smiled, and followed Jason out of the restaurant.

Dick’s sobs almost drowned out the sound of the single gunshot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mumble-mumble disease/virus that is a mix of the dceased virus and being a zombie or whatever, or just kills you painfully but you remain incredibly infectious. Tim noticed because Damian stretched his arms and his shirt rode up. they’re not their hero personas at this moment. everyone else is probably already dead. plotholes I don’t care. They do as Damian ask. Dick does not recover, not that I think any of them do.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He’d been injected with Kryptonite

He…he didn’t know what to do.

His father was dead. _Superman_ was _dead_. Overcome with a Kryptonite poison that was injected into his veins.

Injected into Jon’s veins too.

But Jon’s physiology must have been saving him, his half-human side was keeping him alive as he weakly crawled along the ground, away from the lab. Away from Luthor, and the others of his dad’s enemies who put this together.

But he could barely move, and he couldn’t stop crying. Because his dad was _dead_.

It was his fault. Was it his fault? He wasn’t sure, just like he wasn’t sure what he was going to tell him mom. _How_ he was going to tell his mom.

He…he just needed help.

He…needed to stay calm. He needed…to find a phone.

A payphone. Did any payphones exist anymore? Was there one near here? What about a store? Could he crawl to one, and give them the phone number?

Did it even matter? Did he even want to survive?

His dad was dead. _His dad was dead._

On top of it all, it was raining outside, and the mud was making his slow movements even slower. The Kryptonite buzzed through his veins, and every molecule, every centimeter, every _thing_ just. _Hurt_.

“Help.” He wheezed, to no one. He could see a box not far off. It looked like a payphone, he just hoped there was actually a phone in it. “Please help…”

He doesn’t know how long it took to reach the blurry box across the way, but eventually he felt his hand smack against its metal exterior.

His body was on fire, his heart felt like it was going to beat out of his chest. He wondered if he’d die mid-way through dialing the number.

He crawled into the box, and reached blindly upwards. He felt a drop of relief spread through his chest as his hand slapped against a phone receiver. He pulled it down, and let himself smile at the dial tone.

His eyes fluttered as he reached up again. He frowned at the green pulsing lines trailing across his skin. They were practically glowing. That wasn’t good.

He smacked the number buttons until the line started to ring. No need for money, he’d been promised this number didn’t need it. It was always reachable, anywhere, anytime. He dropped his hand to the ground, his arm trembling as he tried to hold himself up.

It rang twice. Then: “Wayne residence.”

“A-Alfred…” Jon stuttered. “M-M-Mr. Pennyworth…”

“Jonathan?” Alfred asked immediately. “My boy, are you alright? You sound…”

There was a scramble on the line, and suddenly, Alfred was gone, replaced by the one Jon had called for.

“Jon?” Damian demanded. “Are you alright? What’s happened?”

“Kr-Kryptonite… Dad…” His already blurry eyes filled with tears. “Dad’s dead…”

The hand he was holding himself up on began to slip under his weight, but he had no strength to try and catch himself.

“Help…” Jon breathed. His vision was darkening. “Damian, please help…”

“Jon?!”

His arm slipped, and Jon collapsed onto the floor of the phone booth.

_“Jon!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do any of you children know what a payphone even is these days? Since yesterday’s was so sad, we’ll sad the Batfam, because Damian makes all of them come along, gets there in time and save the poor baby.


	23. Exhaustion - Tim and Jason

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was 4AM, when Jason kicked his door in for no reason

Tim yawned for what felt like the fiftieth time in a few minutes. He leaned over his kitchen table, rearranging the evidence files again.

He could get this. He _had_ to get this.

His eyelids drooped a little, but he ignored it, scolding himself with another gulp of cheap coffee. He’d forgotten to go to the store, this instant crap was all he had. A fitting punishment for himself, he felt.

He was just swallowing the overly-bitter liquid when there was a knock on his door. Odd, since barely anyone knew where he lived and it was at least four in the morning, but he didn’t panic.

At least, not at first.

The panic set in when, before he’d even had the chance to turn towards the door, it was being kicked in.

“Jesus…!” He muttered, jumping at the commotion. But before he could move, the person who kicked the door came into view.

Jason.

Fucking… _Jason_.

“I hate you.” Tim decided. Jason just looked at him. “And you’re paying for that door.”

Jason glanced back at said door. “…Nah.”

“What was the point of knocking if you were just going to…come in anyway?!” Tim snapped. “What…what do you even want? It’s four AM!”

“Exactly.” Jason nodded, stepping forward. Without warning, he grabbed Tim’s arm and began dragging him across the apartment. “And do you know how much fucking grief you’ve caused me?”

“…I beg your pardon?” Tim asked. “I haven’t seen you in a month!”

“It’s true.” Jason agreed. “But I’ve seen Dick, and I’ve seen Alfie, and all they can do is talk about how goddamn _worried_ they are about _you_.”

“What? Why?” Tim blinked and glanced over his shoulder. “Wait…Jason, I was busy!”

“Shouldn’t have been. Like you said, it’s four AM.” Jason sighed dramatically. “Normal people would be asleep.”

“We aren’t normal people.”

“No, but for tonight you’re going to be.” Jason continued. “Dick and Alfred know you aren’t sleeping, aren’t taking care of yourself, aren’t resting. They think you’re going to exhaust yourself to the point of like. Passing out on a rooftop somewhere and we wouldn’t find you.”

“Wha…” Tim responded dumbly. “I’m…I’m fine! I’ll call them in the morning and let them know, so whatever you’re doing, you don’t need to-”

They were to Tim’s room now, and without a word, Jason spun Tim around and shoved him towards his bed. As Tim stumbled, Jason followed and dragged his blankets back.

“When were these last washed?” Jason asked judgmentally. “Whatever, we’ll deal with that in the morning.”

“It already _is_ morning.” Tim mumbled sarcastically. But when Tim hesitated to get onto the bed, Jason pushed him again, face down onto the mattress. Before Tim could roll over, Jason threw the blankets back over his head.

“Eight hours sleep minimum, but be ready for me to change my mind and make like sixteen or something.” Jason explained. Tim grumpily peeked out from under the comforter. “Try to escape and I will not hesitate to shoot your kneecaps.”

“I was working on a case.” Tim pouted.

“Great, I’ll finish it up for you.” Jason waved off. “Now sleep before you kill yourself. Then I really _will_ never hear the end of it from Dick.”

Jason walked towards the door, but stopped in the threshold.

“…The family’s worried about you, kid. Myself included.” He muttered, almost reluctantly. “This life ain’t worth exhausting yourself over. We don’t need nor _want_ another Bruce.”

Tim just stared at him, letting his annoyance dissipate.

“So take the week. I’ll take care of your cases and your routes. Even your cooking if needed.” Jason promised. “Just…let’s get you some sleep, yeah? Maybe schedule family time after you’ve had a couple hours.”

Tim watched him for a few more seconds, then slowly curled into his blankets. “Thanks, Jay.”

“Don’t thank me, thank Dick for driving me crazy about it.”

“…Are you going to sleep too?”

“I’m not the one worrying everyone here.”

“If you don’t, I’m going to call Dick right now.”

Jason glanced back with narrowed eyes. “You wouldn’t dare.”

Tim rolled towards his nightstand, where a cell phone sat.

Jason pursed his lips and stomped to Tim’s closet, where he pulled a spare blanket down off the shelf.

“I’m taking your couch.” He grumbled. “And, for the record, in case you forgot, I fucking hate you.”

“Yeah, yeah, feeling’s mutual, big bro.”

Jason slammed the door on his way out, but Tim smiled as he heard Jason flop onto the sofa in the other room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This...really isn’t whumpy. just fluffy. well shit, I’m a failure ain’t i


	24. Blindfolded - Damian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was Clayface, or someone like him. Right?

Damian tried to focus his breathing. Kept his eyes closed despite the blindfold tied around his face.

“Ignoring me?” Nightwing sneered. He’d been talking the last ten minutes, since Damian woke up in this chair. Damian shook his head minutely, to only himself. It wasn’t him. It wasn’t Grayson. It was Clayface, or someone _like_ Clayface. He knew that. He recognized that. “That’s rude.”

The punch to his jaw was a surprise, but he tried not react too much. Just licked the blood off his lip, and remained silent.

He heard a liquidy gurgle, and then the voice changed.

“Tough guy, eh?” Todd now. “I see how it is.”

A knife to the leg, right above his knee. His tied arms jerked, and he let out an involuntary scream.

“Hurts, doesn’t it?” The voice was morphing now. Feminine. But it was a mix, like this person wasn’t sure who they were trying to mimic. Batgirl, but which one? Barbara? Cassandra? Stephanie? “But I bet it doesn’t hurt as much as the truth.”

Damian swallowed the lump in his throat, grinded his teeth together, but stayed quiet.

“We hate you.” Drake’s voice now, and wasn’t that appropriate? A punch to his gut. And another. And _another_. “We’ve _always_ hated you.”

Damian squeezed his eyes shut a little more. This person wasn’t real, it wasn’t Drake.

It…it _wasn’t_ true.

“You’re weak.” A breath against his ear, and he couldn’t help but shudder. “Useless.”

Damian tried to lean away, but suddenly there was a hand in his hair, yanking his head back.

“And I wish you would just die.”

Father.

That was his father’s voice. _Batman_.

“I wish I never found you.” The not-Batman hissed, tugging his head back until his neck strained. “And I’m going to fix that mistake right now.”

Damian didn’t fight back. Didn’t move. Just exhaled when he felt sharp metal on his throat.

Because he was right. This person, they weren’t Batman, or his brothers, or his sisters. But they were right.

He felt the tears in his eyes anyway.

They were right.

The tear escaped his blindfold just as the metal was pulled roughly from his neck, leaving a light scratch.

He didn’t hear what happened, what changed, couldn’t over his racing mind.

They were right.

They were right, they were right, they were _right_.

He shouldn’t have been born. He shouldn’t have stayed here. He shouldn’t have disrupted his family’s lives, inserted himself in a place he clearly wasn’t wanted.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, stabbed leg twitching. The knife still sat there, an obvious weight. “I’m sorry, I…”

Suddenly a hand gently touched his knee, the one without a knife above it. “Robin?”

Damian jerked back anyway, chair scraping backwards.

“Don’t…!” He said on reflex. “Kill me if you want, but don’t you dare touch me.”

“Robin.” The voice said again, calmly. Grayson, this monster picked Grayson again. “… _Damian_ , it’s okay. We got him.”

Damian shook his head. “Your tricks don’t work. Not on me.”

A moment of nothing, of silence and stillness. But then almost just as quickly, there was a careful hand on his face, wiping away his stray tear. “Oh, kiddo. What did he do to you?”

“Stabbed him in the leg, apparently.” A drawled voice now. Across the room. Todd. But was it Todd? Did it matter? “Maybe focus on that instead of asking stupid questions?”

Grayson – or the mockery of him – sighed. The hand on his face stayed, but he felt a second come up and begin tugging at his blindfold. It fluttered away, and Damian cautiously opened his eyes.

Grayson knelt in front of him, and to the side, Jason and Steph were standing over a man Damian didn’t recognize. Clayface’s human form? Someone else?

He didn’t know. He didn’t care.

“You okay, Robin?” Nightwing asked, regaining Damian’s attention. Damian just blinked at him. “…I’m real. You know that, right?”

Damian glanced back to the unconscious man on the ground. “…I think.”

Grayson offered him a soft smile. “Let me cut you loose, okay? Then I’ll get you out of here.”

Damian nodded as Nightwing stood and leaned over him, cutting at the ropes. Damian glanced over as he heard a grunt from the corner. Stephanie was rapidly kicking the unconscious man in the side, muttering curses under her breath. Todd was laughing.

“…I heard what he was saying.” Grayson murmured thoughtfully. “You know that’s not true, right?”

Damian merely looked up at him and stared.

“We love you, and we are so…” His voice seemed to crack a little here. “… _so_ grateful you’re here, with us every day.”

Damian just looked away. “Yeah, whatever.”

Dick chuckled, but it was sad. “You’re going to hate it, but I can’t take the knife out of your leg. I’m going to have to carry you.”

He didn’t wait for a response, scooping Damian up into his arms, careful to keep the leg with the knife farthest from his chest. He whistled to the others, and Jason gave him an absent wave in acknowledgment.

As they excited the building, with no warning, Dick ducked down and pressed a kiss to Damian’s temple.

“I love you, kiddo.” He muttered, all but running to the nearby Batmobile. “Don’t you ever forget it.”

Damian didn’t mention that he was still working on believing it, first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dick tells Bruce what the shapeshifter told Damian and Bruce is so heartbroken he just holds his baby real right later, and then goes to the prison and beats the shit out of the dude.


	25. Disorientation/Blurred Vision - Damian, Dick and Tim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He couldn’t have. He just couldn’t have.

Damian woke up to someone crying. Someone whispering his name.

“Come on, kid. Wake up for me.” It was Grayson, jostling his shoulder. “ _Please_.”

Damian’s eyes slowly cracked open, even as he felt an arm slide under his head, another under his knees. He inhaled as he was lifted, felt his arm dangle in the hold.

Felt Dick’s tears drip onto his face.

“Gray…?” He wheezed, throat dry. “What…what happened?”

“Your…” Dick sobbed, and suddenly, Damian realized he was running. “Your grandfather.”

Ah. That was right. Ra’s appeared at his school. Took his class hostage, and he and Jon couldn’t do anything, lest they reveal themselves. Ra’s simply asked for Damian to come with him, and he complied.

He remembered being in the compound, in the throne room. But nothing after that.

And Grayson surely was not there.

Damian tried to lift his head, but it felt too heavy, and there was an instant pain in his gut. He glanced down as far as he could – blood covered his uniform.

Stabbed maybe? That was pretty on par for Ra’s.

But Grayson was crying. Grayson was openly _wailing_ as they ran, and that didn’t make sense.

Damian squeezed his eyes shut, tried to lift his head again. He…couldn’t. So he let it flop back against Grayson’s arm, turned it slightly to look back.

There was a body on the floor. Getting smaller with every step. But. A body. In the middle of the throne room. Small, unmoving. Male.

“Who is…” Damian muttered, trying to blink the dazed blur from his eyes, from his mind. “Is that…?”

Suddenly Dick shifted him. Pulled him up and held his face against his throat.

“Don’t look.” Dick begged. “Please don’t look, Damian. You…you shouldn’t…” Damian felt Dick’s Adam’s apple bob against his cheek. “…It’s not your fault.”

“Wha…?” Damian mumbled. His voice wasn’t working, and he just couldn’t seem to get a grip on where he was, what was happening.

He shifted a little, enough to get one eye over Dick’s shoulder, back on the body.

The body in red and black. The body with dark hair, pale skin. The body with a giant puddle of blood underneath it.

Damian’s body tensed, and he knew Dick felt it. He let out another cry. “ _Don’t_.”

_“Drake?!”_

His eyes still wouldn’t clear, but there’s no one else it could be. No one else had that uniform, that weapon.

“It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s not your fault.” Dick promised, pulling Damian’s head back down.

“He’s dead.” Damian breathed. “Isn’t he? He’s _dead_!”

“…Yes.” Dick practically choked on the word. “He…he got here first. I…heard it over the comms.” A harsh wind hit Damian’s back, they were outside now. Dick just kept running. “Ra’s had stabbed you. He was going in for the killing blow. Tim… Tim jumped between you.”

“No…” Damian breathed, brain still not comprehending. Still not _understanding_. “Drake would never…not for _me_ …!”

“He did.” Dick whispered, Damian heard an engine running nearby. “He loved you, Damian.”

“No!” Damian tried to wiggle now. His gut screamed in protest, but he didn’t care. “No, he _couldn’t_ have!”

“Stop.” Dick pleaded. “We…we need to get you safe.”

“We can still help. We can still _save_ him.” Damian rambled, pushing at Dick’s chest. Dick just held on tighter. “And if we can’t, we cannot leave his body here.”

“We…we aren’t.” Dick cried. “Don’t worry, we aren’t. Cass…” His voice cracked. “Cass and Jay are going to get him.”

“We can save him.” Damian repeated. He felt Dick hit a runway, his stomps loud metal bangs as he ran into the airship. “We can save him! Go back! _Go back!”_

As soon as their incline stopped, Dick collapsed to the ground, curling protectively around Damian. Damian squirmed all the same, even as Dick restricted Damian’s arms, and sobbed into his neck.

“We have to go back.” Damian breathed, his energy draining. He could feel blood still pouring out of his body. “We…we have to go _back_.”

“We have to save _you_.” Dick countered tearfully. “Because if we don’t…if we don’t, his death will have been in vain. It’ll have been _useless_ and…”

Dick squeezed him so hard it _hurt_.

“And then I’ll have lost two brothers for _nothing_.”

“…I’m sorry.” Damian whispered, hands clinging to the front of Dick’s uniform. “I’m so sorry, Grayson. I killed him. I _killed_ him-”

Dick shook his head. “You didn’t. You _didn’t_.”

“I’m sorry. I.” Suddenly Damian’s heart was pounding, his vision, as blurry as it was, was fading again. “I killed him and I can’t…I _can’t_ …”

He passed out again to the sound of Dick screaming his name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damian lives, obviously. But oh man does he hate himself for the rest of his life.


	26. Migraine - Jason, Cass and Damian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No one could find Damian.

The manor was in an uproar.

No one could find Damian. He wasn’t in his room, or the cave, or the garden, or even the library. There was no sign of him leaving the grounds.

Bruce and Dick were both already panicking. Someone snuck in, they said. Talia, or Ra’s, or the Court of Owls. Someone used magic to grab him, to _hurt_ him.

Tim fed on that Ra’s theory. Because he was always the culprit, wasn’t he? When it came to Damian, anyway. Anything to steal him back, anything to warp the child’s mind.

Alfred just fretted, this way and that. Looking himself, but knowing better than to recheck the same places seven times. His panic may have been born of their past losses. Because he’d lost so many of his family so quickly, so mysteriously before.

Cassandra, though. She seemed to know something. But kept it to herself. At least, until Jason caught the look in her eye, silently followed her up the stairs.

“You know where he is.” He accused as they reached the landing. She turned and looked at him blankly, and, in her defense, didn’t deny it.

“…Yes.” She hummed. “But. I do not know how to help him, and he asked to be left alone.”

Jason sighed. “You could have at least told someone.”

She shook her head. “You know how Bruce is.” She twisted her lips. “Would not honor what he wanted.”

“…Tell me where he is.”

“Like I just _said_.” Cassandra crossed her arms. “We need to _honor_ his-”

“Not if he’s hurt, we don’t.” Jason snapped. But his face immediately softened. “Now, I’m not Bruce, you know that. Tell me where he is, I’ll check on him. And if I think he’s fine, then I’ll give him what he wants and leave him be.”

“Not hurt.” Cassandra promised. “Just…” She frowned, unsure. “Head?” She pointed to her own. “Headache. But…bigger.”

Jason nodded knowingly. “Take me to the kid, Cass. Please.”

Reluctantly, she nodded, and spun away, trotting down the hall. Jason followed as close as he could, in case she might try to lose him in the journey.

She didn’t, though. Even glanced back a few times to make sure he was still there. She led him to an unused bedroom, one Jason, and everyone in the family, knew all too well.

Thomas and Martha’s.

Bruce never used it, and Alfred never talked about it. Only cleaned it. It was unspokenly off-limits.

Cass pushed the door open.

But Jason didn’t quite understand, because the bedroom was empty too. He opened his mouth to protest, but hesitated when Cassandra veered off towards a closed door. She didn’t open it when she reached it, though. Just stood next to it and waited for him.

When he approached, she held her finger to her lips. Only when he nodded, did she turn and slowly open the door.

The bathroom.

It was a bathroom, Jason could tell by their backlit reflection in the mirror across the room. But otherwise, the room was dark. The lights weren’t on.

Jason reached for the switch on reflex, but Cassandra instantly grabbed his wrist. She glared angrily at him for a moment, before her face relaxed, and she pointed to the far end of the space. The bathtub.

Jason silently walked into the room, let his eyes adjust a little as he moved forward. Already, he could see a shape in the tub. A body curled in on itself, arms covering its head.

“…Hey, kid.” He whispered as softly as he could. Damian shifted. “How you feeling?”

“Terrible.” Damian admitted. “…I’ve tried blocking all sound and light, but it did not help. I just puked anyway.”

“Yeah, migraines do that.” Jason offered sympathetically. “You drank anything lately?”

“No.” Damian groaned. “I…haven’t done anything by lay here. If I move too much I get nauseous.”

“Okay, then.” Jason turned back to Cassandra. “Mind being my errand girl for a quick sec?”

She twisted her lips, but nodded.

“Okay. Go get me a couple bottles of water, some pain killers, a blanket and a pillow.” He listed. “And while you’re doing that, let everyone know we found him, but to leave us alone. And that if they don’t, I’m kicking them all in their dicks.”

Cassandra smirked at that. “What…does he have?”

“It’s called a migraine, and it sucks. But he’ll be fine.” He smiled though. “Thanks for protecting him, though.”

She looked away in embarrassment but nodded as she dashed out of the room. As he heard the bedroom door close, Jason slowly felt around the space for the ledge of the tub and sat down on the cold floor.

“You don’t have to stay.” Damian mumbled. “It’ll pass. Always does.”

“I know they do. I have them all the time too.” Jason hummed. “Just like I know they pass faster when there’s someone there with me. Being quiet, of course.”

He heard Damian shift again, and silently reached his hand into the bath. A second later, he felt Damian’s shaky fingers latch on to his, and squeeze.

“Thanks, Todd.”

Jason felt himself smile, just to himself. He squeezed Damian’s fingers back. “Any time, kiddo.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some fluff after yesterday’s angst. Cass is still leaning about the world around her. Jason basically makes a blanket nest in the tub for Damian.


	27. Power Outage - Dick and Damian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Do you trust me?”

Damian stared across the city. Normally so bright, even at night. Now dark. Dead.

Some people were walking around, enjoying the disturbance to their every day life. But it was pretty cold out, so most remained in their homes. He could see their candles flickering in windows.

“This might be a bad time to admit it.” He hummed softly over his shoulder. “…But Gotham really can be beautiful.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Dick sighed. “It is a bad time.” There was a snap on the mechanism he was working on. “Update?”

Damian glanced downwards. “…They’re still scaling the building.”

“How close?”

Damian pursed his lips, threw a few batarangs, and then an explosive. “…Not as close as five seconds ago.”

“Okay. Cool.” Dick gave a breathy laugh. “Almost got it.”

“Yeah, take your time.” Damian drawled.

“Shut it.” Dick warned. “But don’t panic, alright? I’m going to get you out of here. I’m going to _protect_ you.”

Because that’s who these mysterious attackers were after, of course. Damian. They’d put out a broadcast, before they cut the power to the entire Gotham City electrical grid.

_The Court of Owls has sentenced Damian Wayne to die. For the sins of his father._

“Please. I can take care of myself.” Damian huffed, crossing his arms. “Besides, I think we should worry more about _me_ protecting _you_.”

Because some assassins – Talons – had shown up in the penthouse not two seconds after the power was cut, and started in on Dick, calling him the Gray Son. How they would have him soon, how he belonged with them. _To_ them.

Well, they couldn’t have him, Damian decided. They could _never_ have him.

Dick laughed openly now. “Anyone ever mention how sweet you can actually be?”

“Shut it.” Damian mimicked. “And focus.”

“Right.” Dick nodded. “Few more minutes. Just hold them off a little longer.”

But as he spoke, Damian saw a glint on building nearby. He’d barely squinted at it before he saw something flying towards his face.

“Grayson – _down_!” He shouted as he dove off the ledge himself, onto the roof proper. Dick, luckily, listened, dropping to the roof just as a knife embedded itself in the door.

But there wasn’t a moment of calm after, as suddenly said door to the roof began to shake.

“Shit.” Dick snapped another part together, and threw the glider on his back.

“That’s not-”

The roof door crashed open. Three more of those Talons appeared, knives ready. Dick glanced at them, then across the roof to the building where the flying knife had come from. He could hear those climbing the tower still.

He looked at Damian, in the middle of all three.

“Do you trust me?”

Damian stared at him, at the glider not quite ready, at the monsters surrounding them.

Then he smiled.

“Always.”

Dick grinned back, and lunged at him, engulfing Damian in his arms. Without a word, Damian clung to his neck, closing his eyes.

And they jumped into the darkness of Gotham.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is during Batman and Robin time for Dick and Damian. Alfred is safe elsewhere.


	28. Hunting Season - Jason, Cass and Damian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hunting season was officially open

There was a giddiness in the Gotham air tonight.

All the criminals had heard. From the lowest of the low, to the crime bosses who ran casinos and businesses.

Hero Hunting Season was open.

A million per Bat body, the bounty said. Must be dead on arrival, but still recognizable.

The hunt had only been on for six hours, and already there was a rumour that the Big Bad Bat had already been got. Already dead and presented. The million already paid out.

But the others were still fair game. In fact, if the Bat really was gone, now the rules changed. Now smaller contests were starting, with other betting pools. Now it was first to off that teeny Boy Wonder, wins. Or first to get his oldest ally of Nightwing, wins. You get celebrity Bat-couple of Red Robin _and_ Spoiler? Well, your winnings just doubled.

There was excitement. There was joy. There had never been such a fun game in the borders of Gotham City.

At least, that’s what two old carjackers thought as they moved into to an alleyway after they spotted the Red Hood walking into it. They smiled to each other, each pulling out their own makeshift weapons – a pipe and a bat with nails on the tip.

They followed behind slowly, as quietly as they could. Kept the Red Hood in sight at all times, at least until he turned a corner.

A corner they both knew was a dead end.

As soon as he disappeared they ran after him, with the shorter of the two breaking out in giggles.

But then they turned the corner. And stopped.

 _Oh_.

The Red Hood was standing there, staring at them, his helmet off and hooked on his belt. He was smirking, his thumbs hooked into his holsters.

“Howdy, fellas.”

Behind him to the right stood Robin, a long, thin sword lazily gripped in his hand, leaned on his shoulder. To Red Hood’s left stood a woman. They weren’t sure of her name, mostly because they’d heard a few. Batgirl. Black Bat. Orphan.

She had knives in both hands.

“…Look, guys, just make it easy on yourself.” The fatter man tried. “If you struggle, it’s just going to hurt worse.”

“Funny.” The Red Hood said. “I was about to say the same to _you_.”

“Wha…?”

“What, you idiots think you’re the only ones hunting tonight?” The Red Hood’s grin grew. The woman ducked into a battle stance. Robin pulled the sword from his shoulder and spun it flashily in his hand.

The shorter man gulped.

“…Bats don’t kill.” He tried.

“You’re really going to stand there and say that to me, when you fucks are running around town looking for a thirteen-year-old to murder?” The Red Hood motioned to Robin, but it was the woman whose face grew darker. “Besides, it’s not _Bats_ don’t kill, it’s _the_ _Bat_ doesn’t kill. The rest of us refrained out of respect for him.”

“And last we heard,” Robin whispered angrily. His grip on his sword tightened. “Batman is _dead_.”

“And there’s no point in following a dead man’s rules.” Red Hood sneered. “So!” He stood up a little straighter. “You ready, kids?”

Robin and the woman stepped forward, their blades ready.

The carjackers took a step backwards. Red Hood pulled out his gun.

“The season’s officially open.”

The men ran.

No one ever came out of the alleyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> listen everyone loves the dead robin club by my personal favorite is the murder gang. another not quite whumpy one. i’ve lost the plot of the month, oh well


	29. Reluctant Bedrest - Tim and Damian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim did not fall asleep here.

Tim awoke surrounded by warmth and softness. He opened his eyes lazily, giving a sigh as he glanced towards the window, at the sunlight streaming in.

He didn’t fall asleep here.

Frankly, he didn’t remember falling asleep at all. The last thing he remembered was a battle. A couple of gang members outside a bank.

“How are you feeling?”

The voice was soft, and he turned his head on reflex. Already he could feel a strain in his neck. That wasn’t a good sign.

It was Damian who had spoken. Damian, who was sitting nervously at his bedside, looking awfully worse for wear.

Looking way too much like Bruce, in stress and worry.

“I don’t know.” Tim answered honestly. “What happened?”

“You got overwhelmed by the gang.” Damian explained simply. “You were already unconscious by the time father and I got to your location.” Damian frowned. “The thugs had already fled the scene.”

“Did you find them?”

“Father is still looking.” Damian admitted. “I’m checking on you for Pennyworth.”

“Thanks.” Tim mumbled. “What’s the damage?”

“To you?” Damian snorted. “Multiple stab wounds. Concussion. Bruised bones, broken ribs. Broken right arm. Sprained ankle.”

“Cool. I can’t feel a thing. Love these pain meds.” Tim inhaled. Suddenly, he sat up. “What leads have Bruce found so far?”

“Wha…” Damian’s eyes widened. “Lay back down.”

“Hm?” Tim asked absently. “Oh, I’m fine. Like I said, can’t feel a thing.”

“That doesn’t matter.” Damian snapped. “Lay _down_.”

“It’s fine. I’ll sleep when I’m dead.” Tim joked. “Or rather, I’ll sleep when those assholes are cau-”

Without warning, he heard the sound of a blade being unsheathed. He glanced up and found the tip of said blade mere centimeters from his nose.

“I said.” Damian hissed. “Lay. _Down_.”

Tim glanced between the dagger and the brother holding it, then back again. Then slowly leaned back into the pillow.

“…I’m fine.” He offered.

“You need to rest.” Damian spat, kept his knife out. Tim vaguely wondered if Bruce knew he had that on him, even out of uniform.

“I’ve had worse. You know that.”

“You _need_ your _rest_.” Damian repeated, sounding a little more angry. A little more…something else. “Now lay there so you can _heal_.”

“Damian.” Tim breathed a laugh. “Finding those assholes is more important than-”

“No!” Damian suddenly screamed. “ _Nothing_ is more important than you _healing_ so you don’t _die_ and leave me behind like Grayson did!”

Tim blinked in surprise, just as Damian’s brain caught up with what he said. Damian backed up a step, then another. Then dropped his knife.

“…Damian.” Tim started.

“Don’t. Just…” Damian closed his eyes and turned away. “I’ll go tell Pennyworth you’re awa-”

“Damian, come here.” Tim ordered.

Damian shook his head. “I-I have a case to work on in the cave, and I-”

“I will only stay in this bed if you stay in this room with me.” Tim announced. “If you leave, I’m following you.”

Damian stared at him, then narrowed his eyes.

“You know better than to test me.” Tim smirked. Damian watched for a moment more, then huffed, stepping forward once more until he reached his chair.

But before he could sit back down, Tim lashed out and grabbed his wrist, dragging him into the bed.

“Drake…!” Damian whined as Tim all but manhandled him into the bed, and under the covers he was so carefully tucked into. “Your injuries…!”

Tim ignored him, ignored the slight aches shuddering up his body with every movement. Didn’t settle until Damian was tight in his arms, comfortably under his chin.

“…I’m not going anywhere. I’m not leaving you behind.” Tim whispered. “…Thank you for caring about me.”

Damian didn’t say anything, but seemed to burrow a little deeper against Tim’s throat.

“…You haven’t slept since you brought me home, huh?” Tim surmised. Damian hesitated for just a moment, before shaking his head. “Okay. Well, I’m still tired, so how about we take a quick nap, until Alfred comes back up to check on me?”

Damian didn’t answer, but Tim felt a tiny arm curl around his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We’ll say this is during Ric times or during Spyral times or some shit.


	30. Wound Reveal - Bruce, Dick and Damian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They heard Damian scream from upstairs. It was a scream of absolute agony.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  ** _WARNING_** : this might come across as _**self-harm/mutilation**_ , so I just want everyone to be aware and be safe!

Bruce glanced up when he saw a person appear in the kitchen doorway. Smiled, when he recognized Dick.

He loved all his children equally. Of course he did. But there was always something special when his oldest was home. When it was just the two of them in the calm of the sunrise, without the noise and chaos of their other family members.

“Coffee?” He hummed. Dick yawning and scratching at his bed-tousled hair, nodded. They didn’t say anything after that, just stood in comfortable silence as Bruce brewed a carafe, and got out the cream and sugar.

As the coffee finished, Dick slid over two mugs, yawning again. Bruce smiled as he filled the first.

“Sleep well?” He asked, handing Dick the mug.

Dick nodded, lifting the mug to his lips. “Better than I have in a long-”

There was a scream from upstairs.

And in their line of work, they knew the difference between screams. They knew surprised screams and fearful screams. Excited screams and screams of annoyance.

This was a scream of pain. Of absolute, soul-searing _agony_.

And the scream came from Damian.

Neither thought. Both went running, Dick dropping his mug to the ground, not caring about the hot liquid splashing across the floor.

Despite Bruce exiting the kitchen first, Dick passed him on the stairs, taking three at a time to Bruce’s two. And the whole time they moved, Damian screamed. Loudly, urgently.

And just in so much _pain_.

His bedroom door was closed, with Titus barking in terror outside of it. The canine noticed them as they neared, and barked faster as he backed away from the entrance. Bruce nodded to the dog as Dick slammed into the door, tugging at the doorknob until the latch clicked open.

He threw the door into the wall, and both he and Bruce looked around the room.

Their jaws instantly dropped.

There was blood everywhere. On the walls, in his bed, a trail on the floor. Damian was in the corner, bloody hand clutching the wall, the other scrabbling at the hilt of a dagger sticking out of his lower back.

But it wasn’t a simple stab wound. His lower back was _littered_ with marks, with slits and gashes. Muscles peeked out of chopped flaps of skin, and blood poured down his legs.

“Damian?!” Dick shouted as Bruce ran forward, tearing his own shirt off. He grabbed Damian’s torso and shoved the shirt against the wounds. Dick rushed forward too, grabbing Damian’s wrists and pulling them together. “What the hell is going on?!”

“I…I felt them.” Damian breathed. Bruce frowned in confusion. “The…the implants, Grayson. _Mother’s implants_. I…I thought I felt them activate.”

“Impossible.” Dick whispered. “That’s _impossible_ , Damian. We destroyed her machine. Those implants can _never_ work again.”

“I felt them.” Damian insisted. “I _know_ I did. So I…I tried to take them _out_.”

“Jesus.” Bruce muttered. Damian groaned in pain, tried to reach for the knife still in his flesh. Dick yanked his hand back. “Why didn’t you come get one of us?”

“I didn’t think I had time.” Damian hissed. He winced, closing one eye, and glancing at Dick with the other. “We didn’t before.”

“Oh, Damian…” Dick sighed. He transferred Damian’s two wrists to one hand, and wrapped his free arm around Damian’s back, pressing Damian’s face to his shoulder. “…Bite if you need to.”

Damian nodded, and Dick nodded to Bruce. Silently, Bruce took his hand from the shirt already oversaturated with blood and grabbed the knife, quickly jerking it back and out of Damian’s skin.

Damian grunted and pushed his head against Dick’s collarbone.

“I was trying to take them out.” Damian cried, tears silently rolling down his face in pain, even as Dick stroked at his hair, and Bruce dropped the knife and returned the shirt to his back. “I don’t _want_ them there any more, Grayson, even if they are deactivated.”

“…I’m going to go wake Alfred. Call Leslie.” Bruce murmured. Dick nodded, dropping his hand from Damian’s head to his back. He cringed as the blood spilled through his fingers as he pressed on the shirt. “See if you can calm him down at all, get him laid out.”

“Yeah. Will do.” Dick sighed. Bruce stood and all but ran out of the room. “…Damian, I need you to take deep breaths for me, okay?”

Damian gave a short nod, all but collapsing against Dick’s chest. “…I swear, Grayson, I felt them reactivate.”

“Are you _sure_?” Dick asked desperately. “Are you sure it wasn’t…wasn’t a _dream_?”

Damian seemed to hesitate at that. Trembled in Dick’s hold and then gave a shaky exhale.

“I don’t.” He stuttered. “I don’t _know_.”

“…It’s okay.” Dick promised, pressing a kiss to Damian’s head. But he didn’t let go of Damian’s wrists. Didn’t know if he could trust Damian to not pick up that knife again and go back to work. “It’s okay, kiddo, it doesn’t matter. We’re going to get you fixed up.”

Damian let out a low, painful moan, and all Dick could do was gather the boy closer into his arms, and close his eyes.

_God damn you, Talia._

“Everything will be fine. We’ve got you.” Dick whispered over the Damian’s sobs. He glanced up when he saw Tim run into the room, face already pale and grave, with a small first aid kit. No doubt from under a bathroom sink somewhere, a small attempt at help while they waited for the professionals.

“We’ve got you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They obviously fix him up, take the implants out (reference Dick!Bats era if you don’t know about those) and Talia probably gets a visit. but was Damian dreaming? we will never know~


	31. Left For Dead - Bruce, Dick, Damian and Tim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He was only gone for twenty minutes. How could this happen in twenty fucking minutes?!

It was a normal night.

It was just supposed to be a normal night.

They’d come across a robbery in progress. No problem. Not even the fact that these assholes were violent, with guns and knives and bats, that didn’t seem like a big deal either.

They’d all been hit, all shouted out in frustrated pain a few times. Bruce even saw Tim go down, unconscious, across the bank lobby. But that was typical. No fight was easy.

So when he saw the gang’s leader, the one who was going to report to the head villain, someone Batman no doubt already knew, like Oswald or Harvey, there was no question.

He glanced back once, to the far end of the room. Damian’s tunic was redder than normal, just a little. And there was blood on his face. He had a hand against his collar, rubbing at it a little it seemed. He was hobbling over to Tim, who was trying to lift himself onto shaky elbows.

“You both alright?” Bruce asked softly. “I need to go after that one.”

“Go ahead, Batman.” Damian rasped. His voice sounded dry. Tim nodded, though he didn’t know what at. “Finish the mission.”

Bruce nodded. “Be back in a few.”

And he _was_. He was back in a few.

Just a few minutes. Couldn’t have been more than twenty.

But in those twenty minutes, his whole world changed.

Some of the others were there now. Stephanie. Cassandra. Dick. But as he neared, his gut churned. Because something wasn’t right. Because Damian was sitting leaned against the wall. Because Tim was being taken from his lap by Cassandra, who didn’t seem surprised that his head flopped heavily against her chest. Because she just bowed her head and held him.

_Wait…_

Because Stephanie was taking Damian now. Damian, whose eyes were closed. Damian, who didn’t seem to be reacting to being manhandled. Damian, whose head lolled just as heavily as Tim’s had.

Because there were tears on Stephanie’s face, as she gathered Damian up in her arms, and stroked at his hair. There was pain in the way Cassandra doubled over Tim, her fingers digging into his back.

_No…!_

He found himself running now, across that large, echoing lobby, his footsteps loud and clunky. Dick, who’d been standing over the two women, glanced back, and his already-wrecked face instantly morphed into fury.

“What the fuck, Bruce!” He screamed. Bruce’s mouth twitched to scold him for using his name, but his heart didn’t allow it. What it _did_ allow, though, was Dick to shove him back as soon as he got close enough. “What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

“What…” he breathed, he looked over Dick’s shoulder, at the women mourning over the clearly _dead bodies_. His eyes went wide. Dead. His son was dead. His _sons_ were _dead_. “What _happened_?!”

“You’re asking _me_?” Dick asked incredulously. “You were the one with them!”

“I…One got away.” Bruce listed absently. “I said I needed to get him. They told me to go, to…to finish the mission.”

“Of course they would say that!” Dick screamed. “You _instilled_ that in us from day one! You _especially_ instilled that in Tim and fucking Damian! That the mission always comes fucking first!”

“I…” Bruce swallowed the lump in his throat. The bile and the vomit and the lining of his stomach. This wasn’t happening. _This wasn’t happening._ “How?”

“How’d they _die_? Alone, and in pain, that’s fucking how.” Dick sobbed angrily. “…Damian had a gunshot wound right next to his heart. Tim bled out because his fucking femoral artery was slashed wide open.”

Bruce stared. He could see it now. Right where Damian had been rubbing. A hole in his uniform. Huge, clearly a point blank shot. And Tim…the lake of blood underneath him spoke for itself.

“How could you?” Dick demanded quietly. Bruce didn’t look at him, so he shoved at his shoulder. “How _could you_?!”

His anger echoed along the marble walls.

“How could you not see that they were hurt?” Dick begged. Shrieked. Wailed. “How could you _leave_ _them behind_ like this?”

“I…I didn’t see.” Bruce admitted. “I…I didn’t _know_.”

“Of course you didn’t see. Too focused on the fucking mission, right?” Dick hissed. “Took them at their word, didn’t even bother to actually look at them when they spoke, did you?”

But he had, hadn’t he? He looked at them. That’s how he knew Damian was holding his throat. That’s how he knew Tim was struggling to get to his elbows.

But he didn’t look deeper. Didn’t care about the blood he saw on Damian’s uniform. Didn’t care about how weak Tim’s arms appeared to be. How he wasn’t using his legs. The blood clearly already under him.

Dick was right. Because he might have looked. But he didn’t _see_.

“I…I _asked_ …” But Bruce trailed off immediately.

Yes, he’d asked. _You both alright?_ But he only realized now that neither of his sons had actually answered the question. They’d deflected. They’d put the mission before themselves.

Just like Bruce had taught them.

“Oh god.” He breathed. He took a step forward. Tears “Oh my god, my _boys_ …!”

But instantly, Dick was in his path.

“Don’t.” He warned. “In fact, leave. I’ve got this handled.”

“No, Dick, I need to-”

“I said _leave_ , Bruce.” Dick raised his voice, hands balling into fists. “And I won’t ask again.”

Without waiting for a response, Dick turned around, walking slowly back to Stephanie and Cass, like a one-man funeral procession. When he reached them, he merely crouched between them and hugged his knees, hid his face against his thighs after a moment.

His shoulders vibrated with sobs that he kept quiet, like he wasn’t allowed to voice them. Wasn’t allowed to cry for this loss that he may not recover from. The women just stared at the bloody and battered bodies in their arms.

…Bloody and battered. He’d left his sons bloody and battered.

And dying.

He left his sons behind, and they were _dying_.

And he didn’t. Even. _Notice_.

Heaven above, what had he done?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween! And happy end of this event! Dick potentially never speaks to Bruce again. And the Batfam may potentially fall apart. Thanks to all who read this stuff, and if you liked any of it, please consider my patreon or ko-fi, which can be found on my tumblr (fishfingersandjellybabies - just like here!)! (Like please, please. I’m begging haha) Now to take a few days off. Or will I?


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